


Intrusive Thoughts

by oceaxe



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-03-31
Updated: 2016-04-02
Packaged: 2018-05-30 09:12:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 30,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6417634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oceaxe/pseuds/oceaxe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Original summary - "Harry has a dirty mind and Draco helps him come to terms with it. Summer at Grimmauld Place is about to get interesting."</p><p>This one starts out kind of silly and smutty, turns pretty angsty and serious in later chapters. Canon-compliant only up to HBP.</p><p>Comments are most welcome and appreciated!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Harry found Grimmauld Place even more unbearable this summer than it had been the summer before. The heat would have been bad enough, but reminders of Sirius' unhappy incarceration in this place lurked around every corner. Worse than that, Harry had started having spontaneous sexual fantasies about people, mostly about Ginny but about others as well. The fantasies were explicit, often filthy and degrading - not at all loving, the way Harry imagined sex ought to be. Worst of all, they were also intrusive. He would be talking to someone and suddenly he'd imagine pushing them down to their knees and jerking off into their face. Or spreading their legs apart and fucking them. Or punching them and then fucking them. It was overwhelming and highly unwelcome. He couldn't imagine approaching Ron or Hermione with this problem. For one thing, their new relationship was, to say the least, a bit of an exclusive club. Harry felt more isolated than ever.

To make matters even more unbearable, about a month or so after Dumbledore's funeral, Snape had brought Draco Malfoy to Grimmauld Place. To Harry's surprise, everyone had reluctantly accepted Malfoy's presence once they had digested the news that Snape's actions had actually been at Dumbledore's request. The news that Malfoy's father had been killed in Azkaban by Death Eaters and that his mother had been found dead by her own hand at the Manor helped considerably. Malfoy clearly had nowhere to go and plenty of reasons to hate Voldemort. 

Harry reckoned that Malfoy's changed demeanor also did no small part to ingratiate him. Shockingly, as soon as Malfoy emerged from a week-long mourning period, he proved to be most useful around the mansion in the ongoing refurbishing. While he predictably knew no cleaning charms and passively resisted being taught, on his second day in the house he surprised everyone by volunteering to clean manually by himself. Moreover, he offered to do this in rooms previously neglected based on their hopeless appearance. Harry suspected Malfoy had made this offer based not only on a desire to placate the members of the Order who dwelt in the house, but also because it gave him the opportunity to snoop around in the house of his nearest remaining relatives. 

While Malfoy was proving to be a lamb in wolf's clothing, Harry's fantasies were becoming increasingly depraved and frequent. He found himself, on some particularly bad days, unable to look anyone in the eye. In response, he withdrew, rarely venturing out of his room except for food. 

One afternoon, Malfoy and Harry happened to be in the kitchen at the same time. Harry was getting some biscuits to take back to his room, while Malfoy was doing a complicated ritual with a coffee pot. Consciously trying to suppress any unbidden mental images, Harry asked Malfoy how he was doing. It came out stiff and insincere, and Harry expected a sarcastic, sneering remark about the standard of living Malfoy was accustomed to. However, Malfoy only bent his head and responded politely that he was glad to be safe. Harry was still trying to think of an appropriate response when Ginny walked in.

Ginny wasn't allowed by her mother to come by very often, and when she did come it was invariably to see Harry and to make him feel bad about how he was treating her. The last time she came, she pushed him a little too hard about why he wouldn't touch her. So, long story short: he had touched her. The experience was clearly a bit more intense than she had been prepared for, however. She'd fled in tears.

Harry couldn't imagine why she had been allowed to come back.

"Harry, I've come to say something," she announced, looking stoic and self-righteous. It was more than Harry could stand. Clearly, an indictment of his depraved mind was forthcoming, and he wanted no part of it. He left the kitchen with all haste, not even sparing her an excuse or parting shot. 

****

As soon as Harry had left the kitchen, Ginny began crying. Malfoy felt uncomfortable, but realized he had to say something, if only for the sake of appearances. 

"What's going on, Weasley? Are you okay?" 

"Harry won't even talk to me anymore," she spat out. "What do you care, anyway?"

Draco was at a loss. He suddenly realized he did care about the situation, although not about her feelings. "I was just curious," he admitted candidly. 

Ginny hesitated for a moment and then muttered, "Yeah, so was I. And look where it got me."

Malfoy took a moment to puzzle this out. Coming to no obvious conclusion, he asked, "About what?"

Ginny gave him a pained look and pushed her way through the door. He heard Mrs. Black start screeching a moment before the front door slammed shut.

*****

Later that evening, members of the Order of the Phoenix went on a mission, once again excluding Harry and telling him virtually nothing. When he discovered what had happened, he seethed in the library for awhile and then went to find Malfoy, violent images fogging his brain. Somewhere in his subterranean depths he knew he was off to pick a fight, but he didn't care to admit it to himself in so many words. An image of Malfoy sucking him off flashed in amongst the scenes of punching and kicking, images of thrusting and biting, but he was too angry to care. He came across his broom on his way through the suffocating atmosphere of the house and picked it up.

He eventually found Malfoy in Regulus' old room, scrubbing the floor on his hands and knees. His shirt had ridden up, his pants slung too low and revealing the crack of his arse. Harry's first thought was to rip those pants the rest of the way down and thwack him with the broom he was holding - he had a vivid mental image of Malfoy's buttocks red and heated, his breathing hitched and erratic. A familiar stirring in his pants warned him it was far too dangerous to touch Malfoy, even in anger. He blurted out, "You want to go flying?"

*****

Draco had heard Potter enter the room and turned around, still on his knees. Potter looked like he wanted to do something painful to him. _Maybe I'll let him,_ he thought.

"Potter," Draco said carefully. "I have no broom."

"Right." Potter sounded embarrassed at having missed this obvious point. "Well, we can take turns," he said belligerently.

"Where, exactly?" Draco tried not to drawl, he really did. He simply had this speech impediment that made everything he said sound sarcastic even when he was trying to be sincere.

"Goddammit!" Potter threw down the broom. "Why can't I ever do anything? Why do people keep saying no to me? I'm supposed to be so fucking important, but I never get anything I want!" He was breathing heavily, putting Draco in mind of some fantasies he'd been having lately. Draco felt his cock stir but paid it no mind.

"Few people do. What is it that you want?" 

There was silence for the space of a breath or two.

"You want to punch me?"

Potter still didn't respond. He was still breathing heavily from his little outburst and doing his ten-yard stare.

"Surely you didn't actually come in here to ask me to go flying with you?"

*****

Harry looked at his broom on the floor. Had he wanted to go flying? Why did he even have the broom in the first place? He suddenly felt very wrong footed.

"Umm... No." Harry looked around, trying to avoid the sight of Malfoy on his knees and flushed from the exertion of scrubbing the floor.

"Well?" Malfoy said, sounding like he was placating a madman.

Harry decided to go on the offensive. "What are you doing in here anyway? Scrubbing the floor like Cinderella?"

As he said this, an incredibly detailed picture invaded Harry's head, of Malfoy in a fluffy white princess dress and tiara. Red splotches bloomed on Harry's cheeks. Fantasy-Malfoy, though in a very ladylike dress, was in a very unladylike position in this particular vision. And Fantasy-Harry didn't seem so gallant either, pounding away at him like that.

"Like who?"

"Never mind." Harry turned to walk out. He had lost his original intention of beating Malfoy to a pulp some time ago, and this conversation and the ensuing images were just too much. Since when had he and Malfoy ever had a civil conversation, anyway? It was too weird and it wasn't what Harry wanted.

"Wait. I'll tell you why."

"Why what?" he said over his shoulder

"Why I'm scrubbing this floor."

"Uh, okay." Harry reluctantly turned around, hoping Malfoy was not on his knees anymore. That position was entirely too provocative. He was relieved to find that Draco had settled on the floor with his legs crossed before him. 

"I want this to be my room."

Harry struggled to think of reason why to say no and couldn't. "Okay. That makes...sense."

"It's sort of symbolic, I guess. The Reformed Death Eaters' Suite, right? Also, I'm tired of living in fear that Fred and George are going to drop by and try to sleep in their old room with me. That room freaks me out, actually. Who knows what they got up to in there?"

Harry looked scandalized but huffed out a little laugh. "What do you mean?"

"Don't they seem unnaturally close to you? They do me."

Harry's eyes took on an uncharacteristic gleam. "They _do_ you?" he smirked.

"Oh, ha ha. I'm sure they would if given half a chance. If they could keep their hands off each other, that is."

"Incest, Malfoy? You have a dirty mind." Harry was sheepishly pleased by this observation.

"It's not unheard of in Pureblood families." 

"In yours, for instance?"

"Don't sound so high and mighty, Potter, you're part pureblood yourself. Besides, it's kind of hot."

"Fred and George? Hot?!"

"God, no! Augh!" Draco covered his eyes theatrically. "Ginger! Freckles!"

Harry was snickering by now, feeling dirty yet strangely comforted. It began to dawn on him that perhaps he could talk to Malfoy about some of the - stuff - that had been going on in his head.

"Yeah, well... I don't think that's really going on, no matter what you say. But I think you can have this room, if you want it."

"Yeah. I do. Thanks. It's just- "

At the same time, Harry said "D'you ever-"

"No, you go first."

"No, you." He wasn't quite ready to discuss his problem with this stranger who looked like Malfoy.

"Um. What's got you so riled up, anyway?"

"Order mission. Not allowed to go. Again. And no information on what it is, either."

"I know how you feel," Malfoy said.

"I doubt it."

"Well, maybe not. But I was expected to be an instrumental part - strike that, I was expected to _be_ an instrument, a tool - in a plan I never understood. And I wasn't ever going to get the full story, like I wasn't worth it. I wasn't trusted. I was just expected to risk everything, my life, my family..."

Harry snorted.

"What?" Malfoy looked pissed off. 

"Yeah, that does sound familiar. I hadn't thought of it that way." Harry abruptly sobered. "It's not really that, though."

"Oh, so it's not having to defeat an evil overlord with the so-called assistance of a bunch of misfits who simultaneously treat you like a god and an infant that's got you down? What is it, then? Girl troubles?"

"Yeah, Malfoy, I got my first period today," Harry deadpanned. The merest hint of a smirk tugged the corner of his mouth.

Malfoy started laughing, harder than Harry had ever seen him. When he finally opened his eyes and wiped the tears away, Harry was grinning at him and shaking his head.

"I can't tell you what it is, Malfoy. You'll never let me hear the end of it, you'll definitely use it against me. Never give a Slytherin ammunition."

"It's a good policy." Malfoy gave Harry an appraising stare. "But I promise I won't tell. Who would I tell anyway? The weasel-"

Harry gave him a sharp look.

"Sorry, _Weasley_ \- would shove his fist down my throat as soon as I opened my mouth."

This graphic phrase did nothing for Harry's equilibrium. He blanched at the image of something else all the way down Malfoy's throat, Harry's fist clenched in that soft blond hair. Not that it wasn't an enticing image, just - 

"Ron's ... not as violent as all that," he managed to say.

"It was just an expression. Merlin, Harry, what's wrong?"

Harry paused at Malfoy's use of his first name, but decided not to comment on it. "D'you ever have thoughts you couldn't control?"

*****

Potter's question took Draco off-guard. "Like what kind of thoughts?" he asked. He wanted to ask if they were sexual, but he figured Harry would bolt.

"Well... they started out like... sexy... about sex and stuff. They still are, a lot of the time."

 _Hurrah,_ said Draco's mind. "That's perfectly normal for a 17 year-old male," said Draco's mouth.

"Uh huh. Just wait. Like I said, it started out like that - blowjobs, handjobs, stuff like that. But they're getting dirtier."

Now Draco's mind was rubbing its figurative hands together in glee. "This sounds better and better all the time. I had no idea you were even able to contemplate such things."

"It's wrong. Sometimes, these fantasies, they're. Well, they're sort of... violent."

"That's not wrong. In fact, that makes perfect sense."

"Huh? How?"

"Well, you feel out of control in your life, so naturally you're going to have some pent-up aggression. If you want the violent sex fantasies to stop, you're going to have to act out in real life a bit." 

"Okay, Malfoy: one, where did you pick up the Muggle self-help book, and two, how am I supposed to act out... no! I can't even- it's too - it's just disgusting. I can't do it." 

"But I'm right. You have these urges and you have no outlet for them. And you need one."

"I just feel all this energy that -I just. Fuck!" Harry abruptly sat down, a scant foot away from Draco. He scooted back a few more inches and leaned back on his hands. 

"It would be nice, wouldn't it?"

"What?"

"A fuck." 

"Oh. Yeah."

Neither boy said anything for a few moments, Draco wondering if he'd gone too far with his little word-play, as Harry looked fairly unsettled. He wasn't leaving, though. That was something. 

"Potter... that's why it's better with blokes."

"What? What is?"

"Men are dirtier. They're hornier. Sometimes they like it rough." Draco hoped he didn't look too pathetically eager. He licked his lips. _You look like you're gagging for it,_ his brain helpfully informed him. 

Luckily, Harry wasn't looking at him. He just sat there, staring at the floor. But he wasn't leaving. Draco decided to press on.

"What kind of fantasies are these, anyway? Who's in them?"

"Well..." Harry let out a heavy sigh. "Ginny."

"Of course. Right." Draco couldn't keep the derision out of his voice. He prayed that at least it would cover the disappointment. 

"Yeah, 'of course. right.' She's... she was my girlfriend." Harry paused. "And other people."

"Ooh, what other people? The Mudblood?" Draco knew he sounded even more derisive now, but he couldn't help it. It was stupid to be bitter that Harry was straight. 

"What the fuck, Malfoy?" Harry suddenly sat up and looked directly at Draco, leaning forward. "Don't use that word about her ever again."

"Okay, okay, Granger then."

"No, god no! Not Hermione! Just. ..other people, okay?"

"Right. Got it. And what's going on? Do you touch yourself when you have these fantasies?" 

Harry shot him a look but apparently decided it was a fair question. "Um, sometimes."

"How?"

"Through my clothes, mostly."

"Through your clothes? Potter, you're doing it wrong!"

Harry looked mortified. "Well, it's... so what? It still feels good! What difference does it make?"

Draco couldn't help but laugh. "It makes a lot of difference, believe me. Show me what you've been doing." 

"What? No!"

Normally, this was the time Draco would start making fun of Harry for being a prude, but now it actually seemed like they were getting someplace. Taunts and insults were for times when he didn't have Harry's attention. Now he appeared to have Harry's full concentration and they would just be a distraction. 

"C'mon, Harry, I'll show you how I do it, if you show me how you do it." He was already unbuttoning the trousers he'd been given by Fred his first day here. Even if things never went any farther than this, even if Potter clocked him for being gross and perverted, this was the most exciting thing that had happened in months. Ever, maybe. 

Potter opened his mouth, then closed it again. He shifted around uncomfortably and ran his hand through his hair. "I'll just watch you and see how I feel. After."

Again, had this been a normal situation, Draco would have insisted that turnabout is fair play and all that rot, but it wasn't. There was nothing normal about him taking his pants down in front of Potter and displaying the erection he had been half-heartedly trying to conceal for the past few minutes. 

"See? Even just talking about it gets me..." He took his cock in one hand and gave a long, gentle stroke. Harry's face was flushed and it looked like he wanted to look away but couldn't. "God, this feels good. You should try it." Draco chanced a glance over at Harry. Harry looked distinctly uncomfortable but also distinctly interested.

"I... don't think that's such a good idea," he said, his tone suggesting that he could possibly be persuaded.

"Harry, it's just fucking around." Draco gave his cock another tug. "And it's fucking fun. You've got to do it with somebody, and I'm not saying no." He punctuated this with a breathy moan. 

*****

Harry could hardly believe this wasn't just another unbidden mental image. It was so very like one of his own fantasies, except Malfoy would usually have his hands around Harry's cock and not his own. Not that he particularly wanted or needed Malfoy to touch him just now- he wasn't prepared for the other boy to discover how much he turned Harry on. 

The other major difference between this and one of Harry's fantasies was the exquisite detail - the exact contours of Malfoy's prick, the golden hairs curling at the base of his cock, the way his cheeks were slightly flushed, the little sighing noises of pleasure he was making, the sounds of his cock and his hand slapping together. 

The fog of anger from earlier had returned, only now it had transformed into unfettered lust. It clouded Harry's mind and made it hard for him to think of reasons not to just do this.

"Take it off," Harry muttered, his voice practically a growl. 

*****

Draco wasted no time complying. He'd looked pretty dire when he first arrived at Grimmauld Place, but in the intervening time, physical labor and regular meals had given him back a decent physique. Plus, he hadn't been touched in what seemed like a lifetime, so if Harry wanted access to his body, Harry got it. Within moments Draco was wearing nothing but his birthday suit, exposed and vulnerable. 

Harry's hand was at his crotch, rubbing furtively while his eyes brazenly tracked Draco's every movement. Draco made a firm decision to set aside his lingering stage fright and put on a show. He stepped up the pace of his stroking and moaning and was delighted to note (out of the corner of his eye) the corresponding increase in the urgency with which Harry touched himself.

"Unbutton them," he ordered, referring to Harry's pants that still obscured his erection. 

Harry met his gaze with a glazed look and rose to fumble with his belt buckle. When he had his jeans down around his hips, Draco said "Scratch that." Harry paused, looking confused. "Take it all off." 

Grunting softly, Harry stripped off his jeans and tore off his shirt. He stood there, hard and panting, looking at Draco with his arms hanging uncertainly but his cock at unequivocal attention. 

Draco's mind gabbled wildly in exultation, but he was careful not to let his expression betray his emotions. Potter's body was, in a word, godly. Draco wanted to worship it, pray to it, offer himself to it. It was meant to be caressed and licked and spanked and fucked, and he sincerely wanted to be the one doing the caressing and licking and spanking and fucking.

"Come here." Draco could hardly believe his boldness. He felt drunk with desire, heady with the realization that finally something was happening. 

"I want to suck your cock, Harry. I want to put my mouth on it-" Draco broke off as Harry had stepped close enough for him to do exactly as he wished. He stared at Harry's erection, transfixed by the sight and smell of it. Before he quite knew what he was doing, he had it in his mouth and was licking and sucking as though his life depended on it. In fact, it felt like he might die if he didn't taste Harry's come on his tongue, post haste. 

Harry's hips bucked towards him, causing his cock to ram the back of Draco's throat rather painfully. It felt great. 

Before Draco could even get used to the feel of Harry's cock in his mouth, Harry was coming, spasming and shaking and crying out. Draco was both honored by this uninhibited release and disappointed that it was over so fast. He hoped to all the gods in Heaven that Harry wouldn't be weird about this now that he'd gotten his rocks off. 

Moments later, it was clear that Draco's prayers had either been unnecessary, or had been answered with uncharacteristic alacrity. Harry was reaching for Draco's cock with shaky but sure hands. He grasped it firmly, and Draco praised Godric Gryffindor for all his headstrong recklessness and courage. Draco had been much more tentative the first time he'd touched someone else's cock. Unless.... 

"Pretty good for your first time," he said shakily.

*****

"That's... that's good," was all Harry could get out. His entire attention was on his hand, and on what was in his hand. It was just fucking amazing - Draco's cock felt so soft and smooth and hard and warm, and it smelled unbelievable. 

"Can I..." he said as he lowered himself down, but before he got an answer, before he even got the question out, he'd sucked the cock into his mouth. He tried to copy what Draco had done, doing his damnedest to give as good as he got. He wasn't going to let Draco win at anything, not even cocksucking. 

*****

Draco was glad he was so turned on, because Harry definitely needed some practice at this. Nevertheless, the fact that it was Harry's head bobbing away down there, Harry's mouth and tongue working him over, Harry's moans that he heard muffled by his own prick...

"Oh fuck, Harry! I'm gonna..."

Draco shot his load down Harry's throat, spasming helplessly but still able to note that Harry had swallowed it. He felt warm, almost giddy, with the knowledge. 

They sat there, breathing hard in the aftermath. Draco slowly lifted his head to look at Harry, and found himself meeting a piercing gaze. His heart contracted painfully - he knew that if Harry decided this had been a mistake, or that it just hadn't been any good, life was going to be that much less worth living. This might have been a terrible idea.

*****

Harry looked at Malfoy, knowing he was seeing him for the first time. Or maybe the second - watching him toss off had been rather eye-opening, actually. He felt the silence grow uncomfortable as he tried to work out a way to propose they continue this... whatever. 

"We have got to keep meeting like this," he said, a nervous giggle mercifully suppressed. "I've got some fantasies I'd like to... what did you say? 'Act out.' You up for it, or are you scared?" 

"Oh, I'm up for it."

Harry looked pointedly at Draco's now-flaccid cock. 

"Come on - I just came!"

"Okay, fair enough," Harry ceded, laughing. "Tomorrow, then. There's an Order meeting tomorrow, and I'm sure I'm going to be pretty wound up afterwards." 

"Good to know." 

The look Draco gave Harry made him shiver, and he hoped he'd have some inventive new fantasy to act out with him tomorrow. Maybe, he thought, having a dirty mind wasn't such a bad thing after all.


	2. Chapter 2

True to his predictions, the Order meeting was pissing Harry off. His scowl retreated into a furtive smirk, though, as he recalled the events of the previous evening. All at once, he found himself fantasizing about Malfoy scrubbing the floor, the way he had found him in Regulus' bedroom. As Shacklebolt droned on and on about suspected Death Eaters and possible locations of dark artifacts, Harry's mind drifted over the shape of Malfoy's arse under those low-riding trousers, and he smiled a little to himself at the thought that he now knew exactly what that arse looked like naked. 

Harry started to get a little bit hard, but for once it wasn't bothering him. He was sitting at the table; no one could see his lap. The meeting seemed like it could go on forever, so he decided to see just how detailed a fantasy he could come up with. He felt better knowing he was intentionally directing the fantasy. It made him feel dirty, but in a good way - not an insane, psycho, freakish way as it had before. 

So. Malfoy on his knees, with his back to Harry, oblivious to Harry's presence. Promising. Harry would cast a Silencing Charm on his feet to make sure Malfoy didn't hear his approach. As Malfoy was leaning forward to reach a stubborn spot on the floor, Harry would kneel behind him, knees planted on either side of Malfoy's legs, and tug gently on his waistband. Mafloy would rear up in surprise, and Harry's hands would go down the front of the trousers, teasing Malfoy's prick before sliding back around to the sides and yanking down. 

Then he'd push Malfoy back onto his hands and knees, listening to his harsh breaths, and spank first one perfect milky arsecheek, then the other, until Malfoy was practically crying, his buttocks pink and giving off heat. Harry would soothe them with gentle strokes and at the same time with his other hand reach around to Malfoy's cock, which would be hard, precome wetting the tip. He'd smear that around… 

Harry was getting seriously distracted and turned on now. He could feel a flush rising from his chest to his neck and across the tops of his cheeks. He dimly realized he should be paying a bit more attention and prepared to finish the fantasy later when he registered that someone was saying his name. "Yes?" he said, a bit too loudly. 

"Harry, did you have something to add to Moody's report?" 

Oh shit. He did have something to add, but it was completely gone from his head. His head had been entirely taken over with images of Malfoy's arse, back, cock, memories of the taste of his come. If he opened his mouth now, "I want to lick Malfoy's cock again" would likely be all he could manage to say. 

"Perhaps Harry should come up and demonstrate the results of our research." Oh god, that's right - he and Moody had perfected a way to resist Petrificus Totalus. _If only that worked on erections_ , Harry thought wildly. "Yeah, I think I can do that," he stalled. "Just let me … tie my shoe …" He ducked under the table, hoping no one saw through his transparent bid for time. 

_Fuck, I'm gonna have to stand up with this enormous stiffy in front of practically every authority figure I know. Think unsexy thoughts! Snape in a corset. Mmm… Draco in a corset- no! Snape in … just Snape. Snape Snape Snape. Filch. Snape and Filch._ Ah yes, the boner was subsiding. 

He rose, trying not to hold his hands in front of him, as he knew from bitter experience that that just telegraphed the problem. 

* * *

Somehow nearly getting caught by the entire Order of the Phoenix with a raging hard-on made Harry feel awkward about fantasizing about Malfoy. He'd thought having deliberate, as opposed to unbidden, fantasies would make himself feel better, but apparently even his conscious fantasies were too all-absorbing.

He was afraid that if he went and saw Malfoy now, he'd come away with images and memories so intense he'd be walking around with a permanent, undisguisable erection. So instead, he went to his own bedroom, pushing aside a niggling feeling of guilt at leaving Malfoy hanging.

Later that night, his fantasies came back, unbidden and stronger than ever. They had a unique twist, one he wouldn't ever have come up with consciously. He woke with his underwear sticky with come, his hand down his pants, and a very clear dream-image of himself with his tongue down Draco Malfoy's throat.

Well, that was not on. This was about sex, not snogging like lovebirds. Of course, the snogging in the dream had been more passionate and out-of-control than the phrase "lovebirds" generally suggests, but nevertheless. Somehow, giving Malfoy a blowjob and kissing him seemed like two very different things.

He gave Malfoy a wide berth for the next few days, just in case this new development turned ugly.

* * *

Draco, meanwhile, was not-so-slowly going mad. Or rather, given that Harry hadn't shown the slightest sign of interest in him since he'd left Draco's room two days ago, he was starting to believe he imagined the whole thing. Which would mean that he'd already gone mad, some time ago.

He sat at the kitchen table tensely, wondering if Harry was going to show up only to ignore him again. The coffee he'd made was halfway finished when Harry stumbled in to the room, giving every impression that he intended to ignore Draco. Again.

Draco cleared his throat. Harry looked over at him, and his eyes travelled briefly over Draco's disheveled state, then met Draco's own eyes. Harry's gaze was so intense Draco nearly flinched. Harry quickly turned away and muttered, "Good morning."

"Yes. Isn't it just? Well, I've got to go... be anywhere else, I suppose." Draco picked up his coffee and left the kitchen, only to slump bonelessly in the hall. What on earth was Potter's game? That look, just one look, had given Draco an erection that demanded immediate attention. Since Potter clearly wasn't going to oblige, he was going to have to take matters into his own hands.

Draco hurried upstairs to his new room and the thought hit him - that look was far _too_ intense. Harry still wanted him, still wanted to do things with him and to him. _It's just that he's a goody-goody Gryffindor. He's lost his nerve and needs encouragement. Or prompting. Or slow torture. Something to get him to remember my offer, and to stop letting embarrassment get in the way of a good time._

Slow torture seemed to be the most rewarding of the options. He would make Harry regret he'd ever started playing hard to get.

 

* * *

Draco cursed the circumstances under which he'd been ditched at Grimmauld Place. He'd not even had the chance to bring any of his belongings with him; he and Snape had gone from the Tower to Spinner's End, then several horrific weeks later Snape had brought him here. There had been no time or opportunity to retrieve anything from the school or home. Consequently, all the clothes in which Draco knew he looked his best were out of reach. Meanwhile, he was left to wear Fred and George's cast-offs, which meant that he looked like a blind beggar. Or worse.

He wasn't good enough with Transfiguration to make the clothes fit, and besides he didn't have his wand. But if the girl Weasley had left some clothes behind, they might fit him better. She was tall and scrawny. And she might have jeans, at least, maybe a t-shirt?

Draco tried to remember where she'd been bunking when she had been here. He was reduced to breaking into every bedroom on the second floor, and eventually found what must have been a room she'd shared with Granger.

Aha! There were some clothes hanging in the closet. A pair of jeans! Score! And a sweater that only a mother could love, a hideous skirt, an equally hideous printed t-shirt that said "Girls Rule," … and what's this? _Oh hell yes_ , said Draco's mind. It was a girl's undershirt, the kind they wear before they develop breasts. _The kind Ginny Weasley is still wearing,_ Draco sneered. It was practically see-through and very narrow. It would hug Draco's body like a glove. A very tight, cheap, sexy glove. If he cut off that little rosette at the neckline, no one would know it had been intended for a female.

He tried the jeans on, and was impressed with how well they fit. They rode a little bit low on his narrow hips, but luckily they weren't too short. She probably rolled them up when she wore them.

Suddenly embarrassed at the notion of being caught dressing up in girl's clothes, Draco hurriedly put his own back on, bundled up his findings and went back to his room.

* * *

That night, Draco was eavesdropping as usual on the Order meeting, an ear out for anything that might piss Harry off. After all, it was a pissed-off Harry that had come to his new bedroom that night, full of energy that needed to be directed elsewhere. He was disappointed when it seemed they were including Harry on another mission, one that apparently had some chance of succeeding. Draco found himself hoping it wasn't too dangerous and then mentally smacked himself. He was supposed to be lusting after Harry, not getting all protective of him.

At the end of the meeting, Shacklebolt announced that most of the senior members of the Order were required to be present at the Ministry in the morning. _Good,_ he thought, that'll give Harry and me some privacy. Draco had a plan to put into action.

 

* * * 

Harry banged into the kitchen, having hardly slept a wink. He had again been plagued by dreams of Malfoy's mouth, on him and over him and kissing him… like lovers. They weren't lovers, damn it, and they weren't going to be. They were… what would be the term for people who fooled around together? Friends with benefits. Except they weren't really friends, were they? Fuck buddies. Except they hadn't fucked. 

_Yet_ , Harry's brain added, and he grimaced. He had certainly had fantasies of fucking Malfoy, but he wasn't sure how he was supposed to bring those about. They were pretty intense, on a whole other level than just mutual blowjobs. Being inside someone would be… he felt himself getting a boner at the thought and a blush spread across his face.

Just in time for Malfoy to come in, dressed like… Good Lord! Harry turned away partly to hide his blush and his boner, and partly to hide his astonishment. Malfoy was wearing - what _was_ he wearing? A tight, nearly transparent tank top skimmed his slim, muscled torso, ending right below his belly button. Low riding jeans clung to his hipbones, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of the divots leading to his crotch.

Harry was briefly impressed with himself that he'd gathered that much information in one quick glance, then immediately horrified at the realization that the image was obviously burned into his brain and would haunt him, day in and night out. Hopefully Malfoy wouldn't say anything to him so that he wouldn't have to look at him again, wouldn't have to acknowledge how that outfit made him react.

"Hey. Make any coffee?" Malfoy asked, lounging against the table.

Harry refused to turn around. "No, Malfoy, I don't drink it. And I'm not your house-elf, so you can make it yourself."

"Fine. Budge over."

Oh no! The coffee maker was directly in front of him, right where he was trying to butter his toast!

Suddenly, Malfoy was right up against him, his bare arm rubbing slightly against Harry's, his smell wafting off of his body. It didn't seem as if he'd showered recently, but the smell wasn't rank. Far from it. He smelled delicious, in a musky, animal way. Harry snatched his toast up, half buttered, and went to sit at the table. Why he didn't just go up to his room, he didn't know.

He sensed Malfoy stiffen as he stalked away, but he mercifully didn't say anything. Munching on his toast, he tried to think of something neutral to say, but his eyes drifted to where Malfoy ground some coffee beans. He stood with his hip thrust to one side, accentuating the lines of his back and the curve of his arse under the tight jeans. Then he reached up for a mug and that ridiculously thin little shirt rode up further, exposing more pale, smooth flesh...

Harry went hot all over as it dawned on him that Malfoy was wearing this on purpose. Malfoy was tempting him! Harry felt like swooning - god, he wanted to be tempted. But he was so afraid of giving in. Where would this all lead?

* * *

Harry paced in his room, unable to focus on the old newspapers he was supposed to be searching for clues. "Augghhh!" he yelled in frustration, kicking at the pile. He wanted to wank so badly, but every time he closed his eyes he felt Malfoy's tongue in his mouth, felt his own hands caressing Malfoy's body, holding it tight up against his own, and the images were actually more disturbing that the images of shoving his cock down Malfoy's throat or fucking his arsehole roughly.

It had been a week since that first and only encounter in Malfoy's room, and he thought he really might be losing his mind. He wanted to think "It's only been a week," but he felt more like "My god, it's been a whole week? Inconceivable. Why aren't we shagging yet?"

He sat down abruptly on his bed and put his head in his hands. Resisting this was pointless. He may as well wank.

Harry opened up the door to his room cautiously and peered out down the hallway. Good. No one was around. He walked down to the bathroom, already envisioning how good a wank in a hot shower was going to feel. He was so busy envisioning this, in fact, that he didn't register the sounds coming through the door until he flung it open and nearly fell backwards in shock.

Draco Malfoy was fisting his cock with serious intent, seated on the side of the clawfoot tub, head bowed and hand moving fast as a snitch over his erection. Harry gasped and Draco shot up from the edge of the tub, eyes widening as he took in the figure in the doorway. He was panting and red-cheeked, and had never looked more enticing. Harry was on him in a matter of seconds, slamming the door behind him.

* * *

"You've been a bad boy, Malfoy," he whispered into Draco's ear as his hands wandered over Draco's naked arse and the backs of his thighs. "Prancing around in that little shirt. Those jeans." Harry gave one arsecheek a firm squeeze. "Laying in wait in the bathroom - touching yourself…" His voice was low and tense with desire. Draco didn't point out that wanking hadn't been an intentional ploy but a biological neccessity.

"I think you should be punished for that, for teasing me 'til I can't think of anything else…" Harry broke off, breathing heavily as he turned Draco around and forced him to kneel and lean over the tub. "Put your hands there," he said shakily, indicating the spot where Draco had been sitting. Draco was quite sure that a spanking was about to be delivered, and he was shocked as hell to find that he was still hard. This was… this was a little bit much, surely? But Harry was turned on, and Draco liked that. A lot.

He allowed Harry to manuever him into position and waited, chest heaving, unable to look around at Harry. He'd been so brazen last week! What had happened to his cheek? _Well, I don't know about that, but I know what's about to happen to your cheeks,_ his brain commented.

Draco listened to the sounds of Harry stripping off his clothes. The sound of the belt slipping through the loops of his jeans made his stomach tighten painfully. He was getting more and more anxious - was Harry going to whip him?

His mind spinning out lurid scenes of Harry striping his back with lashes, Draco started when he felt Harry's hand on his arse. His sigh of relief quickly turned into a moan. Harry rubbed the skin of his right arsecheek lovingly, petting and squeezing for a moment or two, and Draco could feel precome ooze out of the tip of his cock. He was practically humping the tub when... Oh! Fuck!

Harry had spanked him! It hadn't hurt too much, he suspected because Harry's other hand was busy wanking so he hadn't put a lot of force into it. Draco half-turned to see the goings-on behind him. Harry had his hand on himself; his eyes were half-closed, staring at Draco's arse and then up into Draco's eyes. Lust clouded them as Harry's hand again caressed his arse cheek, this time sending new sensations up Draco's spine.

Harry seemed to realize that this situation called for a bit of explanation and said, "This okay? Don't wanna hurt you."

Draco nodded, suddenly embarrassed by his wanton willingness to let Harry use him. But he remembered his philosophy - never let embarrassment get in the way of a good time.

"Yeah, it's good. You can hit a bit harder," _if you like,_ he was going to add, but he didn't get the chance as Harry had immediately taken him up on the invitation and smacked his arse again, with a bit more force. It stung, and Draco was momentarily tempted to protest, but he found that for some reason his prick was a big fan of this. Harry's hand came down again. Smack.

"Uh- uhhhhh -" he stuttered out, mouth hanging open and almost drooling. Harry's hand, yet again, was gently rubbing the stinging skin on his arse, and it felt absolutely amazing.

Then he felt the wet tip of Harry's cock pressing up against that stinging area, and it felt cool and hot and delightful. Harry was breathing on his neck, oh, now he was sucking on it, and Draco let loose a heartfelt breathy moan. He sort of had a neck-thing.

"God, you have a such a hot body, Malfoy," Harry breathed into his ear. Draco leaned back into Harry, pushing him down to the floor and rubbing his tender buttocks into Harry's hardness. They both moaned and Draco said, "I want you to fuck me."

* * * 

Harry didn't know what had come over him. Well, he knew, but he was shocked that he could switch so suddenly from reluctant victim of a wily seducer to actively molesting said seducer. Maybe that was what happened when seduction worked?

No matter the reason for his behavior, he was now seconds away from coming, with an unbelievably hot man in his lap (and never mind that until a week ago he didn't even know that men could be hot), and said man was asking him to fuck him. Instead of answering, Harry took hold of Malfoy's dripping prick. It looked like it could use the attention, and Harry wasn't prepared to reveal how much the idea of fucking Malfoy overwhelmed him.

The response he got from his clumsy hand job was extremely gratifying - Malfoy was writhing on his lap, grinding his arse against Harry's needy erection and it felt fantastic. Better than that, though, Malfoy's head was thrown back against Harry's shoulder, allowing him a close-up view of Malfoy in the throes of ecstasy. His eyes were closed, the lashes fine and pale against his flushed cheeks. His lips were parted, his tongue occasionally darting out as though seeking something. His hair clung to his slightly sweaty forehead, and all in all he was a vision of beauty.

Harry decided it was high time he stopped admiring Malfoy's face and get to the real point. "Hey," he whispered as he let go of Malfoy's cock, which elicited a whimper. "Turn around, I wanna give you a blow job." 

Malfoy complied, darting a heated look at Harry as he lay down on the bathroom floor. Harry homed in on the dusky pink hard-on, dusted around the base with pale golden curls. The lighting was better in here, and he was a little more secure in his ability to do this, having done it once.

He bent over Malfoy's crotch, lowering his mouth over the shining head. He licked at it a bit, tongue delivering little poking licks over the glans and the underside, then he took it all in his mouth and continued to press his tongue against it, varying the pressure as he bobbed up and down. Malfoy was loving it, lifting his hips off the ground, practically forcing Harry to take it deeper. Drool escaped his mouth and dripped down Malfoy's cock, and Harry's tongue followed it, spreading it up the shaft.

Malfoy's hips lifted again, and Harry took the chance to reach between his legs, under the balls. He reached to the top of the cleft and ran his middle finger down it til it reached a little pucker. Malfoy gasped and reared up. "More," he moaned.

Harry, quite delirious with the idea that he was fingering someone's arsehole and they were enjoying it, reached for his own cock and gave a few quick tugs. He tried working his finger deeper into Malfoy and was rewarded with a shout and the feeling of hot jets of come splashing his neck and chest. He came instantly.

"Holy fuck, Potter," Malfoy exhaled, sounding both impressed and utterly sated. Harry had somehow managed to remain upright, but at the sound of Malfoy's voice, he slumped down onto the floor, ending up half on top of the still-trembling blond. 

"It's not my fault. You had to be punished for being so tempting," Harry murmured into Malfoy's hair. 

After a brief pause, Malfoy said, "You like being tempted." The smug smirk was audible, but not malicious.

"Yeah," replied Harry dreamily. "Yeah, I do."

They lay there for awhile, recovering, and Harry really didn't want to leave.


	3. Chapter 3

_Bloody hell, that was brilliant._ These words reverberated through Harry's head at least twenty times an hour in the wake of the bathroom incident. He kept replaying the scene in his mind, altering it slightly depending on his whim.

Sometimes he spanked Malfoy for longer, until he really was crying, but he was also coming from the spanking alone and Harry came all over his rosy arse, spreading the semen into those beautiful cheeks. Sometimes Harry slid his prick between the cheeks and rubbed himself off against Malfoy's cleft and balls. Sometimes he actually got up the nerve to open Malfoy up and fuck him properly. Those versions were the best, and they were indulged with increasing frequency.

Harry and Malfoy hadn't had an opportunity to be alone with each other since they'd gotten off on the bathroom floor two days previous, but it wasn't for lack of effort or desire. The Order seemed to be onto something, and Harry found himself constantly in conference with someone or other. Meanwhile, Malfoy's usefulness to the Order was being tested, and he was given a task that kept him occupied for most of the night, two nights running.

Harry had to content himself with his memories and kept an eye out for any possible way to get Malfoy on his own without risk of getting caught. Because they were going to fuck, that much was now clear. The thought of being inside Draco was still thrilling enough to make him slightly nauseated and lightheaded, but he figured he'd fantasized about it enough. It was time to see if reality matched fantasy.

* * *

The last few days had been monumentally frustrating to Draco. Memories of the spanking incident in the bathroom plagued him, and he was walking around with a hard-on that wouldn't quit. To make matters worse, he thought he might be falling for Harry. He'd asked him to fuck him, for Merlin's sake! If that wasn't taking things a bit fast, he didn't know what was. God, he wasn't even sure his arse could take Potter's cock - it wasn't huge, but it wasn't exactly tiny either.

Two days had passed since their last… meeting, and in the interim he had been given an assignment for the Order. This made him extremely nervous - what if he failed? Would Potter then be so eager to touch him, to taste him, to suck his dick? It did not escape him that his priority had switched from his life (and Potter's willingness to save it) to his cock (and Potter's willingness to suck it).

Every time Harry looked at him, he felt a great wave of longing surge over him, and it wasn't entirely composed of lust. _Get a hold of yourself, you're just lonely,_ he counseled himself. It was true, but it wasn't a complete explanation, and he knew it.

* * *

"Where've you been?" asked Harry, as he strode towards Draco in the dimly lit hallway.

Draco's breath caught in his throat and he looked around, knowing that no one was around but fearing to be caught anyway. He recognized the look in Harry's eyes, now. Something was going to happen.

"I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you," Draco joked, his heart racing.

"Seriously," Harry said as he got close, walking Draco into the banister and holding him there with his body, not touching him yet. "I've been wanting to… to -" His eyes wandered over Draco's face and neck, then down lower. He bit his lip and met Draco's confused gaze. "Want to hear about my fantasies? Got some new ones."

"Sure," Draco breathed. He couldn't stop himself. For all that he was starting to be wary of Potter's effect on him, most of his faculties were way too excited by this. He would see just how far Harry would take it. If it was too far, then he could always retreat. This was big house, after all.

Harry drew himself closer to Draco's body, til he was flush against him and Draco could feel his arousal near his own. "Why don't we go to my room?" Harry asked, voice low and shaking slightly with anticipation.

Their faces were so close. This was the closest they'd come to each other, yet. _His lips are right there!_ Draco tilted his head a fraction and leaned in. Before Harry could back away Draco was kissing his soft lips and feeling soft breath mixing with his own. It didn't smell fresh, but it had an undercurrent of something so absolutely delicious and right that the superficial staleness didn't matter at all. Draco felt the kiss all the way through his body. His arms snaked around Harry's torso and rested on his lower back.

To his surprise, Harry leaned further into Draco and opened his mouth. Then their tongues were sliding against each other, tasting and exploring and sending little explosions of lust all down Draco's nerves. He moaned into Harry's mouth and Harry grabbed his body closer and ground his crotch against Draco's. They moved frantically against each other, kissing and licking not just mouths but ears and necks and jawlines. Harsh, heavy breathing filled the hallway as they broke apart, panting. 

"Still want me to fuck you?" Harry asked, challenge flashing in his eyes.

"Yes," Draco whispered. God, he was never ever going to say no to Harry about anything, was he? This could be disastrous - and yet, he'd asked for it last time.

Harry practically dragged Draco to his bedroom down the hall and thrust him inside, the door slamming shut behind them. They stood, looking at each other somewhat fearfully, but the insistence of their throbbing erections forced them to approach each other.

"I've been thinking about this for days," Harry confessed, sounding strangely vulnerable. "I don't know what's wrong with me, I can't stop thinking about your arse."

Draco smiled, and felt a little bit better about the situation. "Oh, really?" he said teasingly, turning around and sliding his hands over his firm buttocks. "This old thing?"

"Take your trousers down." Harry's voice was thick with arousal, just as it should be.

Trousers fell down.

"Pants."

Pants hit the floor.

Harry knelt down behind him and nuzzled the crack of his arse.

"Bit eager, aren't you?" Draco said, his voice wavering.

"This sounds weird, but… Merlin, you smell really good down here."

"I… I do?" This was rather the last thing he expected to hear about his arse.

"Do you have any idea what I'm supposed to do? To, you know…" Harry sounded embarrassed. Things could get very awkward very fast, considering that this was uncharted territory for both of them. Draco decided to take the upper hand.

"Got any lube? No, never mind, I know a spell for this. Give me your wand," he demanded, reaching around behind him.

Harry handed it over with no hesitation and Draco grinned again. Apparently either lust made one stupid, or Harry trusted him. Draco rather thought it was a combination of both, but trust was definitely there. Draco felt giddy as he cast the Lubrication Spell on himself.

"Now I'm going to…" He couldn't put it into words, so he let his fingers do the talking. Potter's hands were on his arse, pulling the cheeks apart as Draco reached back and inserted one finger inside. Both of them gasped.

Draco had done this before, of course, but he was more turned on than he could remember being, and that obviously enhanced the sensation. Harry was rhythmically kneading his arsecheeks, and that might also have played a role. This felt much better than it had a right to. He cautiously inserted another finger and winced. Okay, maybe that was too fast.

"You alright?" Harry asked huskily.

"Mm-hm, just..." Draco trailed off as he rotated his wrist a fraction, crooking his fingers up. "Ohhh, that's…" He just could not seem to finish any sentences, what with the novelty of fingering himself in front another person and the moaning and all.

He panted as he worked his fingers in and out, and Harry's breath ghosted over his hand and slick hole. Draco nearly whined when he felt the tip of a tongue at the top of his crack, but he didn't. Instead, he thrust back towards Harry's mouth.

"I want to -" It seemed Harry couldn't finish his sentences, either, but that was okay because he soon put his tongue to better use. Draco removed his fingers and arched his back, revelling in the sensations while at the same time shocked out of his mind. _How does he even know about that?_

The rimming was delightful but short-lived, as Draco had stretched himself enough to be eager for something more substantial than a tongue.

"Harry," Draco began, determined to complete his thought grammatically even under duress. "You should put it in now."

"What?" Harry sounded disoriented with lust.

"Your cock, Potter! I need it!" Damn! He hadn't meant to sound so desperate. But it was true, Draco's body was aching for a cock. His own was rock hard, a pearl of precome welling at the tip. It twitched violently at the prospect of Harry's member lodged inside him.

"Get on the bed, then."

Draco forced himself not to scramble up on the bed, retaining some shred of dignity as he walked over and climbed up. He positioned himself on his hands and knees and looked over his shoulder at Harry, feeling wicked and scared.

* * *

It didn't seem like it should even be possible, but Draco kept finding new ways to look sexy. This current pose had to be the sexiest thing Harry had ever seen or imagined. Draco's arse displayed so wantonly, the smoldering look in those dark grey eyes, his hair tousled and tossed over his shoulders - he was desire personified. Harry's hand played with his cock as he drank in the sight before him.

"What's the matter, Harry? Scared?"

The taunt galvanized Harry, and he got up on the bed and knelt behind Draco, positioning his cock at the entrance and suddenly feeling nervous again. What if he hurt him? He would just have to go slow. He'd gone slow with Ginny the first time, he could handle this.

Steadying himself with one hand on Draco's hip, he guided his aching prick into the impossibly tight-looking hole. "God!" It didn't just look tight, it was like a vise. He had just got the head in and was so overwhelmed by sensation that he hadn't noticed Draco's reaction to the breach.

He meant to ask or check, he really did, but it was like Draco's channel was sucking him in and he couldn't focus on anything else. He frowned in concentration as his cock slid in, inch by inch, and he was sure he was going to come just from watching it.

Harry's hips jerked hard against Draco's arse as his cock slid those final, crucial millimeters in, and he grunted his approval of the feeling. It was unprecedented.

He lost control over himself almost immediately, hating himself for being so rough -but it just felt so good. Plunging in and out and in again, dimly aware of the flush rising on his body, a light sheen of sweat forming on Draco's back. He watched, hypnotized, as the impact of his groin against Draco's body created a rippling effect in his skin and muscle. The intensity, already high to start with, built until he thought he might black out.

Draco was shuddering and moaning beneath him, and he hoped to god that it was due to pleasure and not pain, but he was on a ride that could only end one way. He stretched himself along Draco's back and rested his forehead on the damp strands clinging to Draco's neck. His climax was upon him and he humped almost brutally into those last few agonizing moments. Draco cried out in what sounded like ecstasy, his come spurting all over the bedsheets between his hands.

Both of them collapsed to the bed, belly to back, sweat pooling between their bodies. Harry lay there for a second, feeling his dick slide out of Draco's arse. An unexpected surge of tenderness came over him. Fighting it, he rolled onto his back and let out a weak chuckle.

"If I'd known it would have been that good, I'd've been fucking blokes for years now," he said, smiling over at Draco. Draco's head was turned away from him, though, and Harry didn't hear a corresponding smile in his voice when he spoke.

"I've got to go to the loo." With no further ado, Draco got up, hastily threw on his trousers and left the room.

Harry lay there, feeling the cooling sweat get sticky on his body, expecting Draco to come back into the room any minute. He didn't return. After a long while, Harry began to feel silly lying on the bed by himself with drying come all over his cock. Perhaps he should go to the loo, as well? Perhaps that had been an invitation to a post-shag shower. Maybe there would be post-shag snogging in the shower? That sounded excellent to Harry.

Or - maybe he had been too rough. Maybe… well, he would have a shower first and then assess the situation. He certainly sounded like he'd enjoyed it, Harry thought defensively as he went off to the bathroom.

But it turned out that Draco hadn't been in the shower. Harry found him in his room, asleep. He had a fleeting thought of slipping into Draco's bed, but dismissed it as lingering post-coital idiocy. Not that he'd ever experienced post-coital anything, per se, but he imagined that most people got a little bit sappier after sex. It would pass.

* * *

Harry tried to catch Draco's eye at breakfast, but he was apparently too engrossed in his book and coffee to look up. With Remus and Snape there, Harry was too nervous to talk to Draco, for fear that the older men would somehow suss it out. He knew he was shite at concealing his emotions, and he was also aware that he was having emotions. Regret, primarily.

He had hurt Draco. He knew that now. Why else would Draco go from gung-ho sexual adventurer to reticent abstainer? What other reason for the cold shoulder? Harry felt like a horrible lumbering oaf - the most intimate thing two people could share, and he'd fucked it up by being too selfish, too eager.

He cleared his throat, hoping that it would draw Draco's attention. He didn't know why he needed so much for Draco just to look at him, except that Draco hadn't looked at him in days. The mission that he was scheduled to go on had been postponed indefinitely, and he knew that Draco's mission had been scotched entirely. The two of them had been pacing like animals in a cage, making it impossible for Harry not to notice that Draco was ignoring him.

Snape looked over at him, sharply. "Potter? Did you have something to say?"

Draco's eyes were finally on him, but he couldn't do anything constructive with the situation. Harry shrugged defeatedly.

"Eat your breakfast like a civilized person and keep your mucus to yourself," Snape said waspishly. Remus merely looked amused at him.

In exasperation, Harry threw down his fork and left the table. Anything was better than sitting here being ignored by Draco and insulted by Snape. "I'll be in my room," he spat.

* * *

Draco was no fool. He knew Potter wanted to have another go at his arse. For some reason, this did not make him happy in the slightest. Rather, it made him feel threatened and almost nauseated. If Potter made serious advances, he would melt, he would go along with it, he would get fucked again and then he'd be _really_ fucked.

_One just does not feel these things for people,_ Draco's mind chided. _Lust, fine - respect, okay - mild affection, sure- but I don't even want to put a name to what I'm risking._

Which was why it was vital that he not speak to Harry, or be alone with him. No touching, no flirting, no teasing or tempting. Just… nothing. There could be nothing else between them, not with Draco's heart threatening mutiny.

So much for boys being better for this sort of thing.

He moped his way into the library, after first making sure it was Potter-free. Potter had said he was going to be in his room, but that could have been a clever ruse. __

But he wouldn't put it past Potter to stalk him through the house - after all, Malfoy-stalking had been in the top of Harry Potter's Top Five Fave Things To Do last year, right in between Quidditch and Ginny Weasley. Draco shuddered at the thought of sharing billing on any list with a Weasley, even a fictional one.

He slumped in a chair, looking peevishly at the pile of books he was to have read for his now aborted "mission." It hadn't even been that interesting, but now he found he missed it passionately. At least it would have given him something to do to keep his mind off the pernicious threat of Potter and his ever-ready cock. Draco's groin twinged pleasurably at the memory of Potter's cock, and before he could stop himself he was engaged in a full-blown reverie, recalling their recent encounter. Up until the part where Potter had basically said that anyone's arse would do as well as Draco's, and then his blood ran cold all over again.

* * *

Remus Lupin was at his wit's end. It was clear that something was going on with the two young men who were essentially trapped here together, but he didn't know exactly what. He wasn't sure he wanted to know exactly what, either - he had his own drama to worry about, not to mention an insurrection and countless rescues to plan.

But the tension in the house was getting annoying, and he needed Harry at least to be mentally alert and acute, not lost in some teen-aged fog of sexual frustration. That damned Malfoy brat had probably tempted him, taunted him and strung him along only to leave him frustrated. He knew all too well what Slytherins could be like.

Remus shuddered and resigned himself to talking to Harry. _No time like the present_ , he thought as he walked to Harry's room.

"Harry?" He knocked on the door, not expecting a response. "Can I come in?"

After a few seconds of silence, Harry replied "Is it important?"

"Yes, it is."

"Come in, then."

Remus opened the door to find Harry laying on his side in the bed, the lights out and shades drawn. He smiled wryly to himself - The pose of the anguished adolescent. Some things never changed. "Can I turn the light on?"

"Sure," Harry said expressionlessly. "Bad news?"

Remus hated that Harry sounded so resigned to the idea of bad news. Bad news which could be anything from another Ministry fuck-up to another fallen comrade. "Not really."

"Good. Don't think I'm in the mood."

Remus chuckled ruefully. "No, you don't look it. Actually, I wanted to talk to you. About you."

"What about me?" Harry sat up on the bed and peered at Remus suspiciously.

"Well, I've been sensing tension between you and Draco." The words just hung there for a minute or so.

"Mm," Harry finally confirmed. "I guess that's true."

"Care to tell me what it's about? I thought you two were getting along."

"Remus, you probably don't want to hear about this. Really. I promise. It's nothing."

Normally Remus would have respected this and backed off with a distinct sense of relief. He didn't mind being Harry's default parental figure, but he was aware that he wasn't very good at it. Now, however, he looked closer at Harry's face and saw something more than generalized angst. There was definitely something afoot. He decided to press on.

"Harry, I don't think it's nothing. Severus has commented on it, too." _Oops_. From the expression on Harry's face, that was the wrong thing to say.

"No, forget it. Not if you're going to tell Snape, no way." Harry turned on the bed until he was facing away from Remus and his face couldn't be seen.

Remus took a deep breath. "I'm not going to tell Severus whatever it is, if you don't want me to. But please. If there's something you want to get off your chest, I'm here to listen. I don't even have to offer any advice, if you just want to talk to someone."

The quality of Harry's silence changed subtly. Remus could tell he was considering the offer. Finally, he turned around so his profile was visible.

"I'm …. Malfoy and I…we're…" He broke off, searching for the right words.

"Involved?" Remus suggested, gently.

"What?! No! Nothing like… well, something like that. Sort of. It's hard to explain." There was a pause as Harry registered the lack of horrified response from Remus. "Are you okay with that?" Harry asked incredulously.

"It would be rather hypocritical of me if I weren't, Harry."

"Why?"

Remus decided to let Harry figure this out on his own. After a few seconds, he heard a soft "oh" from Harry's corner of the bed.

"So, you prefer men?"

"Not prefer. I just don't discount the option. I've had male lovers, yes."

He could see Harry's cheeks flaming, but true to his Gryffindor spirit, Harry charged on with the questions.

"So, you've been with men? Like that?"

"If you're asking if I've had sex with men, the answer is yes."

A note of horror crept into Harry's voice. "Not with…"

"And if you're asking if I've had sex with Severus, the answer is no." _Not yet, at any rate._

"Thank god." Harry took a moment to collect his thoughts. "Well, I think I might like men too. Not just men, but I do like… men. Or maybe just one man. Boy."

"Malfoy."

"Yes." Harry sounded miserable.

"So, what's the problem? I've seen him looking at you, Harry. I think he's probably interested."

"He was interested. Now he hates me."

"I'm sure he doesn't hate you. What happened?"

"We had sex."

Remus disguised his shock with aplomb. He'd no idea they'd already taken it that far. Thank god pregnancy wasn't an issue. Although…

"Sex as in anal sex?"

"Mm-hm."

"Did… um, was there…?" He hated having to ask this. "Lube?" He finally finished.

"Oh, yeah, Malfoy used a spell. But… I…" Oh dear, now he sounded on the verge of tears. Remus fervently prayed that he could be the comforting figure Harry needed right now.

"Have you talked to him about it?" Remus put his hand on Harry's shoulder, and was relieved when it wasn't shrugged off.

"No. He won't even look at me."

"Maybe you should talk to him anyway. Or write him a note."

Harry stood up and began pacing the room. "And say what? 'Malfoy, hope your arsehole is doing well, please send my regards'? 'Dear Draco, sorry I'm pants at anal sex, hope you didn't bleed too much?'"

Remus didn't want to burst out laughing, he really didn't. Gaining control over himself, he said, "That's not what I meant. Just... talk to him. Please. Your problems are not going to go away on their own. I should think you would have learned that by now."

Harry looked sullen but resigned. "You're right. I'll talk to him."

"Good. I'm going back downstairs now. I may be gone for dinner."

"Alright." Harry flopped back down on his bed, still the angst-ridden teen but slightly less moribund. Remus mentally patted himself on the back as he left the room.

Now to attend to my own Slytherin, he thought.


	4. Chapter 4

Malfoy was proving difficult to track down. Harry had been through the kitchen, the parlor, the formal dining room where the Order now held their meetings, the library, the bathrooms, Malfoy's room, his own room (having a fleeting fantasy of finding Malfoy there, wanking himself on Harry's bed with a lewd look on his face)… the bastard was nowhere to be found. 

He was walking down a corridor on the third floor, towards one of the entrances to the attic, when he heard a noise from the room Ginny and Hermione shared when they stayed here. Thinking quickly, he cast a Silencing Spell on the door hinges and the floor and opened the door slowly. It was Malfoy in there, sitting on the floor by one of the beds. Of all the places Harry had imagined finding him, this was one of the last. 

Malfoy was hunched over a book, and Harry moved into the room to see what it was, accidentally overstepping the bounds of his spell. He'd only caught the barest glimpse of its contents when Malfoy bolted upright at the sound behind him and shut the book, stuffing it under the bed. In the act of hiding, he'd revealed to Harry just what the book was - the cover was visible for just a split second before it disappeared under the bed. 

It was Ginny's photo album, one in which she'd kept her pictures of him. At the front of the book there were clippings from the paper and shots of him and Ron and Hermione horsing around. Further in, the pictures were those that had been taken of him and Ginny, at the Burrow or in the common room - smiling into each others' eyes, or holding each other on a couch, or kissing. He felt strangely self-conscious knowing that Malfoy had seen all that. 

"What are you doing in here? Why were you looking at that?" Harry blurted out. Malfoy's eyes were rimmed with red. He didn't say anything, but his silence probably spoke volumes - if only Harry had the tools to interpret it. 

"I wanted to ask you something," he continued, knowing his voice sounded as though he would far rather not ask the thing he had to ask. Harry paused for a moment to ponder yet again just how a person is supposed to ask - 'Did I hurt your bum when I fucked you?' without sounding stupid and came up with nothing. _Fuck it, I guess you just ask it._

"D-did I hurt your bum when I…" He couldn't bring himself to complete the question, but he figured the rest of it was implied anyway.

Malfoy stared at him, disappointment mixing with scorn and hurt on his face. "No, Potter. You were very very careful not to hurt my _bum_ ," he said tightly. Then he stormed out of the room, leaving Harry bewildered. 

"Why were you looking at that book?!" He called out after him, but Malfoy was long gone. 

 

* * *

 

Harry was about to open the door to the kitchens when he thought heard a noise behind him and halted, listening. He heard nothing else from that direction, but as he stood there he realized he could make out voices from the room beyond the door. He would have just walked in anyway, except for the next words out of Remus' mouth.

"Severus. When are you going to stop running from this?"

"Running from what, werewolf?" Snape's voice was sharp and dismissive.

A pause. Clearly Remus was giving Snape a look. _What's going on, here?_ Harry wondered.

"Don't play stupid with me, Severus."

"I would never play stupid with you, Remus. You'd win."

Harry rolled his eyes, but Remus actually laughed at the bitchy retort. He supposed it was rather funny, after all, and was immediately appalled that he'd appreciated anything that came from Snape's mouth. 

"You're still playing a losing game, here," Remus murmured, and damn, if the husky tone of his voice wasn't actually sexy. _That's so wrong! Don't think that way about Remus!_ Harry lectured himself.

There were slight scuffling noises, as though someone were moving closer and someone else were trying, and failing, to move away. 

"I want you. You want me. What's so hard about that?" More scuffling sounds. "Except that we both are. You're hard for me, Severus, I can feel it."

Harry's cheeks were on fire; he should definitely not be listening to this, and yet he just couldn't help himself. Remus had said he wasn't sleeping with Severus… but it sounded like he was aiming to change that.

Suddenly there was a crash of something heavy falling to floor. It sounded like Snape had thrown Remus off of him, rather forcefully. Harry's ire rose again - if that bastard hurt Remus, he was going in.

"Damn it, Remus!" Snape cried, and for once he didn't sound snide. There was actual pain in his voice. "I can't do this! I can't risk… You could have anyone, why choose me to torment?"

"Anyone?" Remus asked incredulously as he rose from the floor. "What on earth are you talking ab-"

"That little Metamorph tramp, Bill Weasley, Hestia Jones - Merlin, who doesn't want a piece of you? And I've seen you looking, too. You can't tell me that you don't --"

"Severus!" Footsteps indicated that Remus was approaching again. Harry tensed, awaiting the sounds of violence. "Do you feel that? That's for you. Only you. I think about you day and night. You haunt my thoughts, I can't get away from you. God, I…" There was a muffled, soft noise, and some moaning. Harry assumed they were snogging. He was simultaneously pleased that Remus was getting what he wanted, and disgusted because it was Snape of all people.

"I want to be the only one, Lupin." Snape was breathing hard.

"Remus," the other man whispered.

"Remus," Snape's voice sounded almost tender. Almost.

"Werewolves mate for life, you know."

"Good, because Slytherins do not do open relationships."

"Oh, I know how possessive you are." Remus sounded like he was smiling. "And insecure," he added, under his breath. 

"We merely like to know that our value is appreciated," Snape retorted, defensively.

"I'll shower you with 'appreciation', then." 

"As it should be. Tell me how beautiful I am." Holy crap, was Snape making a joke? Mixed in with the sneering tone, there was a trace of warm humor in that voice that made Harry wonder how it could be the same loathsome creep who'd made his life miserable for years. 

It was too unsettling and private, and Harry left, feeling shame at having overheard such intimacies exchanged. But a kernel of understanding was growing in his mind. All that Slytherin aloofness covered insecurity! He and Draco had engaged in a very intimate act, and Harry had basically treated it like a game. It seemed possible that the hurt had not been just physical, but emotional as well. Something inside Harry squirmed at the thought of Draco having emotions, but it wasn't an entirely unpleasant sensation.

Feeling like the veil had been lifted on the eternal mystery of Slytherins, Harry went back to his room, to plot his next encounter with Draco. 

 

* * *

 

This was just dumb. Draco was letting his emotions run away with him, and it was embarrassing and awful and unfortunately totally familiar. He knew all too well the laughing stock he could make of himself when he wasn't monitoring and controlling his feelings the way he ought to. 

This was supposed to be about 'boys being boys,' getting off together and having fun. He had never planned on deluding himself into thinking that Harry could want more than just fucking around. Clearly, Harry was basically straight and Draco was a very talented seducer. He smiled a little at that thought - it salved his ego to know that he was attractive enough that even straight boys wanted him. The smile twisted on itself. _But you're not supposed to fall for the straight boys._

_Oh for Merlin's sake,_ he thought as lay in bed that night. _I got teary-eyed over his fucking girlfriend's fucking stalker-diary-cum-photo-album! And then got caught! This has to stop._

Draco had experience squelching his urges when they became problematic. He'd had to, when faced with a father who could turn suddenly and violently judgmental. He had liked lollipops as a young child, and his parents had initially indulged him, thinking it was charming. For several years, he was rarely to be found without one of the sticky sweets. One day, however, Lucius had apparently come to the conclusion that enough was enough. He told Draco that would he would give himself an overbite if he continued to suck on lollipops, and that moreover it was inappropriate for the young scion of a pureblood family to have such an attachment to sweets. Henceforth, they were forbidden. 

Draco was a smart little boy, and when his parents stopped supplying him with the sweets, he'd asked the house-elves to procure them for him. But he made the mistake of getting caught with a bulge in his cheek and a stick protruding from between his lips, and Lucius had brutally smacked the candy out of his mouth, taking a few of his teeth with it. The teeth had been repaired at great expense, of course, and Draco had learned his lesson. Do not want the things you cannot have. You will get hurt. 

So it was easier just to tell himself, and keep on telling himself, that he didn't want lollipops. Didn't even like them. Silly, childish things. Stain your tongue, rot your teeth, only babies like them. And so on.

_Just think of Harry like he were a lollipop._ This unfortunately phrased edict resulted in a cascade of filthy imagery, of Draco on his knees worshipping Harry's beautiful, musky prick, licking up the underside of it, probing the slit and hearing moans of pleasure…

_Right. Harry's not a lollipop, but you can't have either. So you don't want them. No point in wanting what you can't have._

His mind kept drifting back to the feelings that album had aroused, though. He'd sat there, feeling sorry for himself, that he didn't get to hold Harry's hand like that. He didn't get to look at Harry like that. He wasn't… Tears pricked his eyes and Draco blinked them back furiously, wanting to scream in frustration. He actually wanted to be Harry fucking Potter's boyfriend. Had anything ever been so impossible in the history of the world? 

 

* * *

 

Harry frowned mulishly. He was going to talk that prat if it killed him. And it might just, at that. He was a bit disturbed that his erstwhile concern and compassion had turned to frustration, but that couldn't be helped. Malfoy was being impossible, avoiding him constantly, never speaking to him when they did meet by accident. Lost in thought, Harry rounded the corner on his way to the kitchen and bumped right into…

"Malfoy!" 

Draco backed up shockingly fast, as though afraid of Harry. "Potter," he said through clenched teeth, then shouldered past him.

"No, wait! I - I have to talk to you."

"Is it about my bum?" Draco ground out, half turning around.

"Um, no… not specifically…"

"If it's about anything to do with that, Potter, just forget it. I don't think it was a good idea, I don't want to talk about it, and I don't really want to talk to you. Sorry." Malfoy turned and began to stalk off and Harry panicked. So he grabbed him. Which turned out to be a really bad idea, because Draco started flailing and writhing and Harry's instinct was to hold him tighter and closer. Which facilitated a lot of friction in the groin area. Which had predictable results. 

Draco succeeded in wrenching himself around in Harry's arms and getting his hands in between their chests. He shoved hard and Harry ended up on the floor, panting and blinking. His mind flashed on the sound of Remus hitting the floor, and he knew what he ought to do. 

"Don't fucking touch me again, Potter!" Draco said, sounding slightly hysterical and backing away. _He doesn't mean that,_ Harry thought. _He wants to be touched, wants to be appreciated. I have to show him how I feel._

He got up and walked towards Draco, allowing his arousal and concern to show on his face. He took Draco's left hand and brought it to his crotch, intending to repeat the words that Remus had used on Snape to such great effect. 'Do you feel that? That's for you. Only you. I think about you day and night. You haunt my thoughts.' He imagined that if Snape, the ultimate hard case, would relent at those words, Draco would positively melt. 

What he got in actuality was a black eye as Draco's right hand connected with his face and sent him reeling backwards. Before he could muster up any kind of response, Draco had fled.

 

* * *

 

Remus was in an unusually good mood, despite the fact that Severus was gone for a few days of spying and intrigue. His send-off 'party' the night before might have something to do with it. _The man is a stallion. I've always known he would be._ He smiled to himself as he buttered his toast at the counter. The door swung open and he heard the familiar sounds of Harry's trainers on the stone tiles.

"So, Harry," said Remus in the kitchen, "any luck talking to Draco?" 

Harry grunted, and Remus turned around. His jaw dropped as he took in the sight of Harry sporting a gigantic purpled black eye. 

"Yeah, we kissed and made up. It was beautiful. I'll treasure the memory forever."

Remus couldn't help but chuckle at that; he coughed, to cover it. "I take it you're being sarcastic, and that it was Malfoy who gave you that shiner?"

"Right in one, Professor." 

"What happened?"

"Nothing happened, not really. I tried to talk to him, he ignored me. I tried to talk to him again, and he fucking punched me. I really don't think there's much point in trying again." He slumped back in his chair and stared at the ceiling.

Remus took a deep breath. He hoped he wouldn't regret what he was about to say. After all, maybe it was for the best that nothing ever developed between these two emotionally volatile boys. For one thing, they'd subject their respective social circles to endless and alternating rounds of public snogging and fighting, if Remus was a judge of such things. _That is, if they live to rejoin their social circles._ The thought sobered him. If there was any joy to be wrung out of these dark days, both Harry and Draco deserved a shot at it.

"Harry, think for a moment about who Draco is and what he's gone through."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, he's lost his family. He's holed up with his schoolboy rival and clearly having confusing feelings for him--"

"I don't think --" Harry interrupted, but Remus waved him off.

"Let me continue. He has confusing feelings for someone he used to hate. Now, he has let that person," he paused, searching for a neutral term and finding none, "penetrate him, one of the most trusting and difficult things for anyone to do. And he's a pureblood. He was instilled with prejudices you know nothing about, by someone who had the power of life or death over him and was willing to use that power. Yes," Remus acknowledged at Harry's look, "I believe Lucius was abusive to his son. Narcissa was just as abusive, in the opposite way - indulging his whims, allowing him to be obnoxious and inconsiderate. He's a needy, scared, hurt young man. He is angered by his current inability to change his circumstances or find any solace. Can you blame him for being, well, prickly?" 

Apparently shamed, Harry bowed his head. "No, I guess not. But I'm confused, too. I'm … I'm…" Harry's breath audibly caught, and he got up, facing away from Remus. "I'm going back to bed."

_Oh no. Too much angst, not enough pep._ Remus asked himself if he would ever get the hang of parenting a teenager.

 

* * *

 

What Remus had said made sense. Too much sense. It made Harry's chest ache with recognition. If all that was true, then he had more in common with Draco than he'd consciously recognized. They really should talk, and not just about the sex they'd had. They should talk about other stuff - figure out those six years of hatred and why Draco had changed and then why he'd changed back. 

But he couldn't do it, not yet. Some part of him still seethed in resentment for the way he'd been rejected in the hallway. He wanted Draco to seek him out, to apologize and recant and be friends. He wanted other things too, but he wouldn't let himself think about those things. 

Except at night. As ever, when he consciously suppressed his thoughts, they came back with a vengeance in his dreams. His dreams had always been vivid, but now they were almost hallucinatory in their clarity. 

One night, a week after the black-eye incident, Harry woke up from a tremendously detailed dream, sticky and panting. He lay there, going over the details of it in his head, wanting to remember every last one. In it, he had Draco tied up, and Draco was sweating and staring at him with lust and apprehension in his eyes. 

His arms were tied by the wrist above his head, and he was stretched out all along Harry's bed, pale and smooth, a fascinating landscape of soft angles and masculine curves. His prick was standing at attention, and Harry couldn't wait to touch him, to draw a response from that skin and that mouth. He approached the prone body on the bed and knelt down next to him, keeping his eyes on Draco's face. It was the face, more than anything, that was turning him on - he watched as the expression shifted from nervousness to anticipation to eager arousal. Harry positioned himself above the slender, bound body and brushed his lips across the other boy's, closing his eyes and focusing on the beautiful resilient softness of Draco's mouth.

Dream-Harry sat up, straddling dream-Draco's thighs, and brought their erections together with one hand, pumping his hips to increase the friction between them. Draco bit his lip to suppress a groan, and Harry reached out to touch that lip, tug it out from between Draco's teeth. He leaned to forward to deliver a real kiss, keeping his hand busy on their cocks. While they languidly explored each other's mouths, Harry used the hand that was not otherwise engaged to caress Malfoy's body; tweaking a nipple, stroking his flank, squeezing his hip. The kisses turned more insistent. And when the intensity had built to the point that they were bucking helplessly against each other, he pulled away. Draco moaned in protest, and Harry put his finger up to Draco's mouth. He stared at Harry for a second before he opened his mouth and took it in, sucking on it and covering it with a thick sheen of saliva. Harry withdrew the finger carefully and Draco looked at him, wide-eyed. 

Grey eyes tracked the finger as Harry brought it around to his own arse and inserted it gingerly, teasing the puckered hole and then penetrating ever so slightly. He checked to see Draco's reaction and was gratified to see an expression of surprise on his face. Draco hadn't expected him to be the one to take it. He worked his finger in and out, gasping a little, letting his other hand grow slack around their erections. After two fingers had had their way with him for a bit, he Summoned some lube and slathered it on Draco's cock, drawing a startled moan from him.

Harry raised himself up to take Draco in. The head of Draco's cock breached him, and he cried out, more in shock than anything. His head was thrown back, his mouth open as he slowly, so slowly, slid down until he enveloped the erection completely. Draco's breath shuddered out of him as he drew his knees up slightly and began gently rocking. His brows knit together and he clutched the bedspread, obviously in an agony of pleasure as Harry's tight hole strangled his prick. Harry grinned and began rocking back against Draco, increasing the speed gradually until both of them were groaning loudly, sweat beading on their bodies.

Harry's cock jutted out in front of him, bobbing up and down and dotting Draco's stomach with tiny wet spots. He took ahold of it, as the other boy was too lost in the rhythm they'd set, and jerked once, twice and then he was seeing stars. His arsehole spasmed around the erection spearing him, drawing Draco into a climax that wracked through him for minutes. 

It was at this moment that Harry had woken up, and by this point in his recollections, he had reannointed his body in come. He drifted back off to sleep, wondering if being penetrated really felt like that.

 

* * *

 

A week later, Harry had had enough of the dreams. They were driving him crazy, and his curiosity about the other boy had only gotten stronger. He made a conscious decision to begin stalking Draco again. But this time, if he caught him, he wouldn't touch him. He wouldn't even talk. He would just hand him a note that stated his apologies for the fight (even though it wasn't really his fault) and that asked Draco to just talk to him.

The next afternoon, Harry found the other boy in the library, again hunched over a book. _He's going to ruin his posture sitting like that._ He walked softly over to Draco's chair and cleared his throat. Draco's head whipped around, eyes glaring. "Your eye healed fast," he spat. Harry just nodded, not wanting to screw this up by sticking his foot in his mouth. 

"Well? Come to molest me again?" Draco sneered. Harry recoiled at this vicious question and almost reconsidered giving Draco the heartfelt note he clutched in his hand. He shook his head and a moment went by, the two of them studying each other warily. Eventually, feeling like he was in a dream, Harry held the note to Draco, willing him to take it and not ask what it was. 

Draco reached out and gingerly plucked the note from Harry's hand, wrinkling his nose with suspicion. He flicked his gaze back up at Harry and Harry nodded. _Read it._

Deft fingers opened the note and flattened it out. Ice grey eyes scanned the words therein. A shaking, pale hand put the note down.

Harry waited patiently for a response. A minute went by without any acknowledgement. For what seemed like an eternity, Draco remained stony silent. 

Harry studied Draco's profile for a clue as to what he was feeling. There was nothing there. Frustration overwhelmed him and he burst out, "C'mon, Draco, just talk to me! We were friends before--"

"We _were_ friends! It didn't work! Now we're not! Reality check, Harry! I hate you and you hate me, no matter how much you want to pretend otherwise. I'm not a charity case, and I'm not a fucking play-toy!" 

Before Harry knew what was happening, Draco was on his feet and had his wand drawn, wearing that same murderous expression as he had two weeks previous. Harry panicked again, but realized he couldn't reach out physically because he would get hexed. So he reached out with the only thing left: words.

"I love you!" he blurted out, hardly realizing what he was saying.

"What did you say?" 

Harry couldn't believe those words had left his lips. What was he supposed to do, now? 

"I said… I love you?" He cringed as he repeated the phrase. This was a disaster. He should have just gotten into another fight with Draco. At least he understood and could handle physical conflict. 

"Did you mean it?" Draco asked, eyes wide with shock.

"Erm, not exactly, but…"

Draco suddenly looked even more murderously angry. "Am I some sort of joke to you, Potter?" 

"NO! No, Draco, I didn't - I - maybe I didn't mean it, I mean - love is a pretty strong - you know, we're pretty young and I've never…Oh god!" He ran his hands through his hair in exasperation.

Something about his inarticulateness seemed to soften the other boy, who had stopped glaring and was now looking at him with his head cocked to one side as if listening to someone babble in a foreign language. Harry registered this and took a moment to gather his thoughts, then stepped forward and impulsively reached for Draco's hands. To his surprise, Draco didn't fight him. 

"I don't love you, not …" He wanted to say 'yet', but that seemed a little too scary. "Not like that, but I - want to get to know you better. I like you," he explained, smiling tentatively at the bewildered blond in front of him. "I like you, and I want you, and I like spending time with you…"

"Potter," interrupted Draco, with disbelief in his voice, "are you asking me to be your boyfriend?" 

"Um… maybe?"

Draco looked at him, consideringly. After a moment, he put out his hand and trailed his fingertips slowly down Harry's cheek, his eyes soft and wary. "I'll give it some thought," he said, then let his hand drop and walked away.


	5. Chapter 5

Draco just couldn't figure himself out. What was it that he wanted, anyway? He had thought he wanted what Harry and Ginny had had, or something similar. But now Harry was looking at him with stars in his eyes and it made Draco feel uncomfortable. What did Harry really even know about him? Nothing that justified that look.

Initially, he'd been elated at the idea that Harry wanted to know him better, wanted to be his boyfriend. He'd left the library literally humming with excitement and triumph, only planning on making Harry wait a little bit. In his room, he had laid down on his bed, visions washing over him: him and Harry talking and laughing, rolling around together, kissing for hours… and then he'd tried to imagine the content of those long hours of pillow-talk and 'getting to know you' conversations and his blood had turned to ice. Either that or it had stopped flowing through his veins, because he'd suddenly felt cold all over.

Harry wouldn't like him. Harry never had liked him. Harry only thought he might like him based on a few physical encounters, during which Draco's desire had made him pliable. Draco's lips twisted into a bitter grimace. He could get Harry hard, but he didn't think he could convince the King Gryffindor that he was a good guy. Because he wasn't, he knew that. He knew all too well how weak he was, how cowardly, how irritating, moody, petulant, demanding, prattish.

Besides, what would it really mean to be Harry Potter's boyfriend? He couldn't exactly see them holding hands or proclaiming their love to society - which at the moment consisted of an old misanthrope and a werewolf, but which would later include people who wanted Draco dead in the most painful way possible. Even he wasn't stupid enough to believe that love (he felt squeamish even thinking the word in connection to Harry Potter) could save the day, or redeem him, or any of that crap.

 _Maybe I was better off before_ , Draco thought as he avoided Harry's hopeful looks across the breakfast table.

"Professor Snape?" he ventured, taking a gamble that he wouldn't get his head bitten off for addressing the surly-looking man so early in the morning.

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy? What is it?" He was still addressing Draco as if they were both at school. Draco barely restrained himself from rolling his eyes. Snape knew that Draco couldn't bring himself to address the man without the Professor honorific, and he certainly couldn't use his first name. There was no need to be sarcastic about it.

"I was wondering if you would help me with a potion I've been working on. It has theoretical applications that could help in your research on methods to counteract the lingering effects of exposure to Cruciatus, but I'm not sure if I've worked out all the botanical interactions correctly."

Snape regarded him appraisingly. "I did not know you were working on such a thing. That displays remarkable initiative, Draco. I will look at it after breakfast."

Thank Merlin. He could avoid Harry until lunch, maybe for even longer if he could convince Snape to let him assist in whatever it was that he had been working on the past few days.

He glanced over at the other boy and saw confusion causing his brow to wrinkle adorably. Some hitherto unsuspected reserve of compassion welled up in him and forced him to mouth, "Later". Harry lit up like a Yuletide log, making Draco's stomach do funny things.

_Oh crap._

* * *

That evening, Draco snuck into the kitchen from the makeshift laboratory to find something to eat. He and Snape had worked through lunch and dinner, and it seemed that Draco's little potions experiment might be meritorious, after all.

He felt a little bit guilty that 'later' had come and gone without his seeking out Harry, and a little bit nervous that Harry was going to find him, no matter what the hour.

He knew that Harry was going to want an answer, and he didn't know what to tell him.

After Draco had found and consumed a packet of crisps and washed it down with some pumpkin juice, he steeled himself to be accosted on the stairway or in his room or in the loo as he brushed his teeth. With a heart full of foreboding, he trudged up the stairs.

Harry wasn't on the stairs. Nor was he in Draco's room. He was, however, waiting for him by the bathroom… or had been waiting. Now he was sitting, leaning against the door jamb. Asleep.

Oh sweet Merlin in Hades, could he be any more adorable? Draco's heart lurched at the sight of Harry, sacked out and drooling slightly, his head at an awkward angle. He was going to have a terrible crick in his neck, sleeping like that. 

_I can't leave him out here_. Draco knelt down and put his hand on Harry's cheek, wiping off the drool at the corner of his mouth with his thumb. He kind of felt like crying, and kind of like laughing, and a lot like kissing this confused young man who for some strange reason thought he wanted to be Draco's boyfriend.

"Hey, wake up," Draco whispered. Harry continued to snore softly. "Hey," he said a little bit louder. The snoring carried on. Draco licked his ear - that got his attention. Harry started up, eyes blinking confusedly but quickly focusing on Draco's face and lips.

"Hey," he murmured sleepily. "I was waiting for you."

Draco said nothing, just pulled on Harry's arm and dragged him up to his feet. Harry threw an arm around Draco's shoulder and sort of slumped against him. "Where're we going?" he asked, voice still thick with sleep.

"To your room, dumbarse. You fell asleep in the hall," Draco whispered. He could hear the affection in his own voice, and he jerked Harry up against his shoulder more harshly to make up for it.

"Mmm… you smell nice," Harry said into Draco's hair. Draco didn't respond verbally, but he noticed that his body responded quite warmly to Harry's compliment. Harry smelled good, too, truth be told.

He opened the door to Harry's room and let go of him. Harry turned to him and said, "Lay down with me." It wasn't really a request, but it wasn't a demand, either. Draco hesitated, and Harry tried to pull him over to the bed. "C'mon, Draco… we can just …"

Draco decided to shut Harry up with his mouth. The babbling was enough to exasperate even the most patient of men. And Draco was not shaping up to be a patient man.

"Mmmmm," one of them moaned into the other's mouth. Harry had somehow gotten Draco's overshirt off while they kissed, and Draco found his hands down Harry's pants, the left clutching a firm buttock and the right rubbing against a cotton-covered erection. His own cock was being manhandled through the front of his trousers and though the friction was not quite enough, it felt great.

Suddenly, Harry broke the kiss. "You never gave me an answer."

Draco stalled by bringing Harry's mouth to his own again and thrusting his tongue inside, giving the kiss every ounce of passion he had. He pulled away, breathless.

"Can we forget about the boyfriend thing right now? I just want -" he got his hand inside Harry's pants, and his cock leaped when he felt the naked hard length of Harry against his palm. So warm, so real.

Harry let out a long ragged sigh and nodded, lips seeking the sensitive spot underneath Draco's ear. He let out a cry that was shockingly close to a yelp - _Merlin bless whoever invented erogenous zones,_ he thought dazedly.

* * *

Harry finally managed to get Draco's trousers around his ankles, while Draco did the same for him. They stood there in shirts and pants, hands resting on each other's hips, looking at each other like they couldn't quite figure out what should come next. Harry wanted to see where Draco would take it, but part of him was afraid that he'd bolt if Harry didn't take a firm hand. He was walking a fine line between making sure Draco felt comfortable enough to stay in the room, and making sure that they both got off as soon as possible.

 _But wait_ , said a tiny little part of Harry's mind, _why does it have to happen so fast? Maybe you should take your time, for once._

Instead of going directly for Draco's crotch, Harry brought one hand up to his shoulder and trailed it down a slim, ivory arm, paying close attention to the feel of it. He brought his other hand up to trace the faint scar that spanned the length of Draco's chest, marveling at how far the two of them had come without ever once discussing their history. 

All at once, he felt overwhelmed with an intense desire for the person inches away from him, a desire that was only partly physical. He leaned over and touched the tip of his tongue to the scar, following the trail his fingers had blazed seconds before. By the time he reached the end of it, he was on his knees, his face inches away from the erection tenting Draco's pants. He reached for the waistband to pull them down, but thought better of it, and placed his mouth on the fabric, heating the bulge with his breath. Draco sighed, and Harry did it again, his fingers creeping up underneath the hems of the tight cotton briefs and lightly kneading Draco's buttocks.

"You're a fucking tease, you know that?" Draco growled at him.

"Turnabout's fair play," Harry smirked. Then he pulled down the pants and found himself nuzzling curly pale hair, inhaling the heavy, thick scent of him. He licked a wet stripe up the underside of the prick, earning a hushed gasp from Draco.

"Let's get on the bed," Harry breathed and instead of replying, Draco pulled him up and pushed the both of them over to the unmade bed, scooting up onto it and shoving the sheet back against the wall. He sat up on his knees and looked at Harry expectantly, who climbed onto the bed, intent on getting Draco's cock in his mouth again. Draco didn't look inclined to disagree. As he took it in, relishing the softness of the skin sliding over the engorged flesh underneath, he flashed on the dream that he'd had of Draco fucking him. Suddenly, the blow job lost priority.

"Hey, lay down," Harry said, and Draco reoriented himself, reaching out to pull at Harry's pants. Harry helped get them off and then straddled Draco, facing his cock which was still stiff and twitching with need. "Kinky, Potter," Draco said, then grunted as Harry engulfed his cock once more, working his tongue up and down the shaft and keeping one hand firmly around the base. He tried to deep throat it and nearly gagged, but the extra saliva made it possible to stroke Draco with his hand while he turned around to watch the effects it had.

Harry hadn't seen that many people in the throes of ecstasy, but he was suddenly certain that no one could look as beautiful as Draco did. His brow was furrowed, lip caught between his teeth, neck corded and straining as he thrashed his head back and forth. He looked a bit like he was in pain, but knowing that it was pleasure causing this made it one of the loveliest sights Harry had seen. His heartbeat got erratic for a second and he whispered, "Draco?"

Draco's eyes opened a fraction and he panted out a garbled affirmative.

"Do that spell you did when we… we fucked."

"MMmm… stop touching me, then…I c-can't concentr- oh fuck! Potter! Stop!"

Harry grinned and took his hand away from Draco's prick but remained where he was.

"You're going to have to let me up a bit for me to perform the spell on myself," Draco pointed out raggedly.

"Do it on me," Harry suggested, not turning to face Draco because he started to blush furiously as those words left his mouth. _Oh god, can I really do this?_

There was brief silence, and then Draco asked softly, "Are you sure?"

"Mm-hm," Harry nodded. "Just do it. I trust you."

Draco said nothing in reply, so Harry craned his neck around to see if he was getting his wand. He was staring at Harry, seemingly in disbelief.

"I trust you not to hurt me. Go on," Harry reassured him, trying not to let his voice reveal how uncertain he was.

An unreadable expression flickered across Draco's face briefly, then he looked down and away, searching for his wand. He fumbled over the side of bed, pulling his trousers to him and fishing the wand out of the back pocket. Once he had it in hand, he steadied Harry with other hand and whispered "Lubricio."

A warm, tingling sensation shot up inside Harry, making him feel full in a totally unfamiliar way. It was a brand new sensation, not entirely comfortable. He squirmed a bit and a slick little drop slid out of his arse. "Erm," he began, but didn't know what he was trying to say.

"It's okay," said Draco in a reverent whisper as he caught the drop and rubbed it into Harry's puckered hole. "Ohhhh … mmmm," Harry hummed. This was feeling pretty sexy, actually. He was somewhat surprised.

"Keep touching me," Malfoy ordered, and Harry returned his attention to the unflaggingly hard cock before him, supporting himself on one hand and working Draco with the other.

"Okay, just remember, you need to relax. Just relax. If it hurts, tell me," Draco said. Harry nodded, focusing on the feel of the rigid flesh in his hand. He couldn't believe another man's cock could be so attractive. He needed to put it in his mouth, so he did. Draco sighed long and low, making Harry smile around the cock between his lips.

He felt a pressure at his entrance and knew that Draco was about to work his finger in. Doing his best not to clench up, he pushed his hips back, towards the other boy's hand. "That's it," Draco said approvingly. "Take it like a man," and Harry could hear the aroused amusement in his voice.

"Is it in yet?" Harry could feel it, but he didn't know if it was just a fingertip or the whole thing. Draco wiggled his finger, causing a burning sensation that Harry hoped would go away.

"I've got one finger in. Want to try for two?" His voice sounded hopeful, but Harry had to shake his head.

"Don't think I'm ready yet," he said apologetically. Draco murmured "Lubricio" again, and suddenly the burning sensation subsided, leaving just a gentle ache. Harry felt that finger pulling out and was afraid that Draco was giving up, just as it was getting better. But no, Draco had pulled out just to push back in again and Harry heard himself moan. That had felt good, in way he'd never known something could. It was so internal, so undefined and hidden. "Do it again," he demanded gruffly, not caring if he was being polite. Draco had his finger buried in his arse - fuck politeness.

"Oh! God!" Little sparks bloomed behind his eyes.

"I put the second finger in. Think I got your sweet spot." Draco sounded breathless and very pleased with himself. Harry had no response other than an abandoned groan. "Turn around," Draco ordered.

Harry felt the fingers withdraw and knew what was coming next. His stomach lurched with fearful anticipation. Draco's cock was bigger than his fingers. While two fingers had felt better than one, he didn't know that the equation 'bigger is better' actually applied with arithmetic precision in this context. He positioned himself facing Draco and tried to look as brave as he possibly could.

"Don't worry, Harry. I'll stop if it's too much," Draco said softly.

"It's okay, just do it," Harry replied, feeling slightly ridiculous with a wet arsehole poised above someone's prick. He forced down his momentary bout of self-consciousness and reached behind him to help Draco guide it in.

He clenched his teeth and willed his arsehole to relax, then pushed down, testing. It felt huge, but he forged ahead, pressing harder and - pop! The head was in. It took his breath away- so big, burning, too tight! "Is it okay?" Draco asked in a strained voice.

"Mmm," he managed noncommittally. He waited for a few seconds, reminding himself that he had breached Draco like this and it apparently hadn't hurt him. In fact, Draco had liked it a lot. He could do anything Draco could do, always had been able to. This was going to be no different. He took a deep breath and pushed down a little bit more, and at the same time he heard Draco whisper, "Lubricio" once again. He slid the rest of the way down, the burning receding into the distance. Harry moved experimentally and realized that it didn't feel bad. In fact, it felt good.

Oh, it felt very good. So foreign but so good. Harry felt opened up, completely at Draco's mercy and it felt so sexy and right. He risked a peek at Draco's face and found grey eyes boring into his. It made him feel even more vulnerable and exposed, but he couldn't look away. They rocked against each other, thrumming intensity building up and up and up. Harry leaned forward, wanting to kiss the blond boy pumping into him, but he couldn't quite reach. Draco saw his intention and raised his hips off the bed a bit, angling Harry further up so their lips could meet. They bumped noses and laughed, and Harry knew that he wanted this to last forever. Nothing had ever felt so sweet, so inevitable- for all that they fought, they belonged like this. Just like this.

Draco kept thrusting gently into him as his tongue devoured Harry's mouth. Harry's hand tangled in silvery strands damp with perspiration and he was so tempted to say something of what he felt. He pulled away from the kiss, but he couldn't make any words form on his lips. Instead, he pressed them against Draco's temple as he felt his climax stealing upon him.

Draco's shallow thrusts sped up, causing Harry's dripping cock to rub up between their bellies in an unbelievably erotic way. All at once, Draco clutched fiercely at his buttocks and pushed up into Harry's body, his head thrown back and a feral cry escaping his throat. Harry wanted to watch him ride out his orgasm, but his own had overtaken him and his eyes squeezed shut, forcing him to focus on the exquisite agony pulsing through his nerves.

* * *

"We're getting pretty good at this," Harry whispered as they lay there recovering, a hint of hopeful expectation in his tone. _Next he'll be saying we make a good team,_ Draco thought ironically.

"You know, Draco," Harry began and Draco was suddenly sure that he was going to say exactly that. "We make a good team," they said together, and Draco laughed, and Harry gaped at him and then laughed too.

"But you know, teams have to practice," Harry pointed out, still grinning. "In order to be the best, that is. And I know you don't settle for less, do you?"

"Never!" Draco agreed emphatically. "We'll have to devise a schedule. Positions, duration, timing... we'll cover all of it."

"Go Team!" Harry cried out, pumping his fist in the air. Draco laughed again, feeling happier than he could really remember being, ever.

"We'll have the best sex the world has ever known!" Draco proclaimed, smiling at Harry, whose smile faltered for a second before recovering. He nodded vigorously then turned to his side and wriggled under the covers.

Draco left for his own room once he heard Harry's snores. He didn't want Snape or the werewolf to discover them together, at least not before they'd settled this "boyfriend" thing. Once in his own bed, he smiled with satisfaction, both from the earlier physical counter and from his own realization that this might just work, after all.

* * *

All through the next day he replayed the sex in his mind, over and over and over. Harry had been so gentle, had let Draco fuck him, had said he trusted him. It had been… well, it had been beautiful. It sounded almost smarmy to even think it, but they had made love. It hadn't just been fucking around. Harry obviously really felt something for him. It was in his eyes, in the way he kissed, even in the way he touched Draco's cock.

It made him painfully self-conscious to contemplate the notion that he could affect Harry's emotions, not just his libido. But the events of last night told him that he could. That he did. It was like he was living someone else's life- Harry Potter, Boy Who Lived, Chosen One, wanted to be his boyfriend. He wanted to know him, to make love to him. Draco almost started laughing with joy, but was afraid it would turn to tears and he wasn't ready to cry over Harry again, like some girl.

Draco was going to say yes. All that remained was finding the right moment and not fucking it up.

* * *

"I'm sorry, what?" Harry forced himself to sit up straight and looked at Remus, then immediately wished he hadn't. The man looked haggard and exhausted, and just about fed up with Harry's wandering mind.

"Harry. You have got to pay attention. I appreciate that you may feel compelled to moon about Draco-"

"Shh! What if he hears you?" Harry said, panicking and looking around to make sure Draco wasn't about to enter the kitchen.

"I take it he doesn't know how you feel?"

"No, he knows," Harry said gloomily. _And I don't know if he feels the same way._

"And," Remus paused, "did I not see him leaving your room early this morning?"

Harry felt a blush burn across his face. "Yeah. But." He wanted to confide in Remus, but he was so confused he didn't think he could say anything coherent.

"But what?" Remus prodded.

"But. Iaskedhimtobemyboyfriendandhehasn'tsaidanythingaboutit." There. Now it was out, in all its shameful glory.

"Can you repeat that?"

Harry took a deep breath. "I asked him if he wanted to be boyfriends, sort of, and he hasn't given me an answer. Even though we… hooked up last night."

Now it was Remus' turn to blush. "Well, perhaps he assumed that if he… hooked up with you again, that meant his answer was yes?"

Hope sparked in Harry's chest for a second, before fading out as he recalled Draco's words. "He said, let's forget about this boyfriend thing. Then we had sex. I think he just wants the physical stuff." Oh hell. How did things ever get this complicated?

"Hm. Well, I'll admit, that doesn't sound hopeful. But," he hit the word strongly, "it could mean that he's overwhelmed. This is happening a little bit fast, perhaps."

"With Ginny, we kissed and then we were going out. It took about two minutes," Harry whined.

"Is that really what you think? You and Ginny had been leading up to that for awhile. Her, for years. You had at least a few months of pining for her, if I recall your letters correctly."

Harry pulled his knees up to his chest. "That's true." The thought of Ginny made him feel unaccountably guilty. They were broken up; there was nothing to feel guilty over. That second-to-last encounter had been her fault - she'd pushed him, and he'd pushed back. Nevertheless, he did feel guilty. For all that they hadn't been right for each other, he still cared for her.

"Well, Harry, you need to resolve whatever tension has arisen between yourself and Draco because I'm afraid that the rest of the Order, and other assorted relatives of the members, will be staying here indefinitely. They're coming this afternoon. So, we need to get this mission sorted and some bedrooms fixed up and I'm afraid I can't do it without your help. Both of you."

* * *

The invasion began that afternoon. Draco's stomach sank as he realized that he and Harry weren't going to have anywhere to get privacy. Ron was staying with Harry in his room, Hermione and Ginny took up their old room, and he was booted out of his room by Fred and George. They told him he was going to be sleeping in the parlor with Tonks and Bill and Charlie Weasley. Every last square inch of space was covered with Aurors, ex-Aurors or Gryffindors.

He and Harry had been assigned to help Tonks transfigure larger pieces of furniture into beds and to clean out a disused bathroom that had been discovered behind a mouldering hanging in the library. They'd exchanged heated looks and even managed to rub up against each other once or twice, but every time Tonks looked over, Harry jerked away and blushed furiously. It was enough to make Draco want to scream. How was he ever going to get Harry alone, to tell him that he wanted to be his boyfriend? 

After their tasks were done, Harry got pulled into an emergency meeting and Draco didn't see him until the following morning. His thoughts had been plagued by images of the last time they'd had sex - all of 36 hours ago, but it seemed like an eternity. Not being able to wank had been sheer torture. Surrounded by Weasleys and long-lost cousins, he'd had to lay on his stomach so his hands didn't creep down below his pajama bottoms while he slept.

He poked his head into the kitchen, looking for Harry, but a crowd of unfamiliar faces turned towards him and he had to force himself not to flee. He didn't see Harry in there, and he was on the verge of asking where he was when his throat closed up on him. He couldn't ask these people about Harry - what would they think? As far as they knew, he was the devilspawn offspring of Voldemort's dead right hand man. He could feel it coming off them in waves. They could barely believe he was allowed to live, much less stay here, so close to the Chosen One.

Snape had disappeared again, so he mooched off to sulk by himself in the laboratory. To his grave disappointment, Fred and George Weasley were in there, performing noxious experiments and making a mess of the place.

"Watch it!" He yelled as one of them recoiled from a cauldron, nearly knocking over his own that he'd been tending for days.

"Well, if it isn't the Littlest Death Eater!" One of the twins grinned maliciously at him. "We certainly wouldn't want to muff any of your special projects, Ferret Breath!" said the other, sarcasm dripping from his words.

"I'm not a fucking Death Eater, you ginger twatface," he sneered at both of them, talking as though they were one person. As in fact they often seemed to be. "Snape and I are working on a potion that dampens the effects of Cruciatus. Bet your brother Charlie would have liked that before he had his little encounter with MacNair!" The twins blanched.

"Will it work?" one of them breathed, reluctantly impressed.

"It's worked so far on small rodents. Maybe a couple of large rodents would like to give it a go?" He smirked at them. "Snape will be back at any moment, and I don't recommend that you be here when he returns." He tapped his foot and gazed at them archly, expecting them to scurry off at his announcement. Instead, they smirked right back and said in unison, "We're here on orders from McGonagall. Go screw yourself."

Draco huffed. He really didn't have a comeback for that - McGonagall was the defacto head of the Order now, so what she said went. Rather than trade more barbs with the Sociopath Twins, he turned and slammed the door behind him. Where could he possibly go for some privacy?

Now that he thought about it, he had seen Ron in the kitchen, stuffing his face with pasties. Maybe Harry was in his room, by himself? It was a long shot, but Draco figured it couldn't hurt just to check. His heart was racing for some reason, probably related to the fact that he was seeking Harry out to tell him that they should be boyfriends. Was he really going to do this? Despite the fact that they had nothing in common, that Harry would just end up hating him more? That he would get hurt?

He thought back to those last moments in Harry's bed. The way Harry had looked at him. Draco wanted to soak that up for as long as he could keep Harry believing he was worth it.

As he neared the door, he could hear the faint murmur of voices. One higher, one lower. Harry's voice, and … who? Not the she-weasel? Draco felt the barest beginnings of foreboding stir. He Silencio'd his feet as he approached and listened at the door.

"Gin, it's not like that."

"What's it not like?" Her voice was thin with bitterness and anger.

"I do love you. I love you, really." _What?_

"Then why did you treat me like that? And why-?"

"I don't know! I just- please, listen to me, I never lied to you. You know I love you."

Draco had heard enough. Enough to make him want to vomit, at any rate, or tear his hair out, or eviscerate himself. Or better yet, Harry. Except that he didn't think he ever wanted to look at Harry Potter again.

Of course it had all just been a game. Who would have thought, Harry Potter was an equal opportunity letch and lothario, lying to get into people's pants and lying to retain access. He… oh, god, he'd been such a disgusting fool.

He whirled around, feeling like he might pass out. There was nowhere to go, and he might be caught by anyone at any moment, eyes wet with unshed tears, hyperventilating like a stupid girl. Without thinking, he headed for the loo on the third floor. The girls' bathroom, he realized once he was in there with the door shut. Where else would Draco Malfoy go to sob his heart out?

He tried to tell himself that Harry would say, "I love you," or, "I want to be your boyfriend," to anyone, to get into their pants or throw them off guard. It would be easier to believe that Harry was nothing but a hormone-driven teenaged Svengali - that way, it would be nothing personal against Draco. But Draco had heard the sincerity in Harry's voice, and he knew that Harry had meant it. Harry loved the ginger-headed cuntbag. Not him. Never him. He'd been a diversion. A game. Maybe a game that had gotten out of hand, but now Weaslette was here to make everything better again.

Draco retched into the toilet and decided that Harry Potter no longer existed in his world.

* * *

Much of the Order had gone on a mission, and Harry found himself alone with Draco for the first time since everyone had started sleeping at Grimmauld Place. Ginny, Ron and Hermione were still around though, and he thought perhaps Bill had been left behind to keep an eye on them. He was a bit annoyed that Draco had been ignoring him for the last day and a half, but he supposed it was just the awkwardness of so many people suddenly invading their space. That, and the unsettled business between them. Harry was hoping to use this brief lull in the chaos to get an answer out of Draco, and hoping to use their physical connection to make that answer "yes."

After sneaking around avoiding Ginny for a half hour, he finally found Draco hiding out in the library. He smiled a little to himself, watching Draco desultorily turn the pages of a book he clearly wasn't reading. He must have heard Harry enter. A slight hum of anticipation tickled Harry's nerves.

"Hi," Harry said, and wished his voice didn't sound like he was going through early adolescence a second time.

Though he had paused in turning a page, Draco didn't turn around. Harry faltered in his path towards the chair where Draco sat, tense like a coiled spring. 

"I said hi, Draco. What are you doing?" Still no response. This was getting a bit eerie. He walked right up to him and tapped him on the shoulder.

Harry's stomach clenched when this too failed to make Draco acknowledge him.

"Draco," Harry hissed furiously. "Why are you ignoring me?" Draco continued to sit stock still, and a pang went through Harry's chest, making it difficult to keep talking. "Is it because of all the people around? I know it's weird, but they won't be upset if they see us being friendly -"

"Being friendly?" Draco whirled on him, and Harry recoiled from his expression. "Is that what fucking someone up the arse is to you, Potter? Being friendly? No wonder you hardly have any friends!" he spat, face contorted with rage.

"What the fuck!? Draco-" The world seemed to tilt for a second before righting itself, leaving Harry faint with nausea.

"Don't call me Draco! I'm a Death Eater's son, you fuckwit! I'm not worth the air I breathe, the space I take up!"

"Why are you talking like this? I don't understand what you're doing!" Harry heard his voice waver, felt hot tears prick his eyes. _Oh no, I don't want to cry in front of him._

"Doing what? Telling the truth? I thought the Gryffindors liked the truth! Except for when it's inconvenient!"

Harry was speechless. He had no idea where this was coming from. He couldn't even begin to imagine how they'd gone from staring deeply into each others' eyes and kissing and holding each other to this. He felt like he had to be dreaming, except that recently all his dreams had been about making love to Draco. This was as far from making love as one could get. "Is this because I … I asked you to be-"

"Your boyfriend?!" Draco sneered cruelly. "Hah! I wouldn't be your boyfriend if you were the last person on earth! Tell me, why would I ever want that? Because you fucked me?"

"You started this! You're the one who -"

"The one who what? Took his pants down first? And that's an invitation to rape me?"

That vicious accusation left Harry completely stunned. "I never - I didn't - that was all - you wanted it!" He sounded doubtful to his own ears and marveled at Draco's ability to turn things on their heads. He hadn't ever gone farther than Draco wanted, had he? He didn't think he had, but maybe… No, that wasn't true. "Last time, I let you-" Harry started, but Draco yelled over him.

"I wanted to fool around, nothing more! You're the one who fucked it all up! Fucked me up! God, just get away--" But Draco didn't get to finish. A loud crash signalled someone flooing in too quickly, and a moment later Remus burst into the room, a grim expression on his face. The boys backed away from each other, bodies still rigid with tension.

The older man strode forward and put one hand on Harry's shoulder, then glanced over at Draco and said, "It's time."

All the air seemed to have been sucked out of the room. Harry gaped at Remus, then collected himself and turned to Draco, whose face was rapidly draining of color. "I - I have to - it's time, Draco. It's time."

Draco nodded once and turned away, walking stiffly out the door.

Harry looked helplessly at Remus, who said, "Focus, Harry. None of us can afford the consequences if you don't."

With a herculean effort, Harry attempted to clear his mind of all extraneous thoughts. After a moment or two, he looked up at Remus and said, "I'm ready." Remus held out a handkerchief containing the portkey, and they both placed their hands on it. Harry was going to vanquish Voldemort once and for all, or die trying.


	6. Chapter 6

The final battle (more of an infiltration and assassination, really) happened almost as an afterthought. The preparations had been so painstaking that, once the opportunity arose, the mission practically performed itself. The Great Hero disappeared into a whirlwind of fanfare and celebrations for weeks afterward. Draco only saw him from a distance during that time. After all the celebrations died, he saw Harry not at all.

It didn't matter, he had more important things on his mind, or so he told himself - sorting out access to his inheritance, finding work in the interim, securing accommodations he could afford. Nevertheless, thoughts of Harry - Potter - intruded constantly. His voice. His smell. The way he felt. The way he'd looked when he was coming.

The way his eyes had slid over Draco at the Grand Victory Banquet. Draco was, frankly, surprised he'd even gotten an invitation. His research with Snape hardly marked him as a hero. He stifled the bitterness he still felt at being so casually tossed aside, the lingering humiliation of their last fight, and the reasons for it.

The last battle may have been anticlimactic, but the war as a whole had taken a terrible toll on the infrastructure and psyche of the Wizarding world. The official task of Ministry-organized reconstruction started a few weeks after the celebrations died down, and Draco was able to get a job brewing potions. Primarily, the potions were designed to address something Muggles apparently called post traumatic stress disorder. They enabled the brain to properly categorize the problematic memories so that it could recognize that the events were not happening in the present moment but were long over. It was good work, but a finicky potion and demanded a lot of Draco's time. Which he had a lot of. Not too many people were keen on hanging out with someone whose father had been Voldemort's right hand man, no matter what he'd done for the war effort.

He managed to successfully avoid Potter for a year or so, and then one fine and fateful evening he'd taken Malcolm Baddock up on his invitation to attend some gala at the Ministry. Malcolm was going to be tending bar, and he'd asked for moral support. Draco sensed he was looking for a little more than moral support, as they'd been dancing around the idea of dating for a while now. What could it hurt? Draco was tired of being alone and tired of hiding from society.

"Isn't bartending sort of...house-elf work?" Draco teased Malcolm, leaning against the bar. He'd been nervous about running into Potter at this event, but the Hero of the Wizarding World was somewhat notorious for arriving late to these events, shaking a few hands and then leaving precipitously. The chances that he would run into him were slim. This did not, however, prevent Draco from imbibing quite a bit of liquid courage, just in case.

"Give us another one, Mal," Draco drawled.

"Don't look now, Draco, but it looks like your stalker is back."

Draco looked at him quizzically and asked, "Which stalker would that be?" Malcolm mouthed "Potter" at him and looked pointedly over his shoulder.

Draco stiffened and waited a second before turning around. He wanted to be cruel and dismissive, but as soon as his eyes registered Potter's presence, not three feet away from him, he couldn't make any words leave his mouth. A furious blush spread over his face.

"I always did think red would be your color," Potter said, smiling. Draco glanced down at his clothing, pure dove grey robes and trousers, then realized what Potter was referring to. It may have sounded like some kind of a flirtatious joke, but he knew when he was being ridiculed. He made no reply to Potter, pointedly turning back around to Malcolm and saying, "I'll meet up with you later. I've suddenly remembered that I have somewhere else to be."

"Where?" Potter asked, over his shoulder. _Presumptuous twat!_

"Anywhere but here," Draco ground out, not meeting Potter's eyes and striding off across the polished marble floor of the ballroom. At least, he hoped it looked like striding. It felt an awful lot like running.

 

* * *

 

 _Fucking great._ Malfoy was here. _Who the hell had invited him to the wedding? Probably Hermione,_ Harry reckoned, with her lingering commitment to 'house unity.' Didn't she realize that none of them were in school anymore?

Harry certainly felt like he was back in school, though, the instant he saw that head of sleek, platinum hair. Rather, he felt like he was back in Grimmauld Place, where he'd spent what should have been his seventh year, chasing that goddamned prat around like an idiot. Only to be accused of rape. What on earth had possessed him to try to make amends last year at that Ministry function, he'd never know. He went off to get a drink and was stopped in his tracks at the sight of Malfoy talking with Theodore Nott, his head thrown back and his mouth open. He was laughing.

That was why. From across the room, he'd seen Malfoy laughing and the sight had sent daggers of longing into his heart. He wanted to make Malfoy laugh like that; he wanted to see every variety of laughter Malfoy was capable of. Gentle chuckles, conspiratorial sniggers, convulsive, wracking guffaws, tiny huffs of reluctant amusement. But he'd been rebuffed. Draco hadn't even talked to him, he'd just run off.

Harry shook his head, suddenly wishing he was anywhere else but here. Was it possible for Harry to run into Malfoy not looking a right dunce? He knew he looked awful in formal wear - why couldn't Draco ever catch him when he was wearing jeans and a t shirt? He could do casual.

He milled around, nursing his drink and staying on the periphery of the garden. Against his will, Harry's mind kept conjuring imaginary dialogues with Malfoy, none of which ended well. _Even my imagination can't make this work,_ he thought, a rueful smile forming on his lips.

"So," blurted a stiff, uncomfortable-sounding but all too familiar voice. "Your team lost again." Malfoy's voice, Harry realized, was deeper than it had been. There was, surprisingly, no malice in it.

He turned to the tall blond man standing next to him and deliberately grinned at him, forcing every last ounce of warmth into it that he was capable of. It was a reward, of sorts, for Malfoy's bravery in making the first move in the reconciliation. If that's what this was, in fact.

"Yeah, they're pants, but they're everyone's favorite team anyway," Harry said with a wry smile. If he wasn't deceiving himself, the left corner of Malfoy's mouth quirked upward at his deprecating comment.

"Must suck to have to work for a living," Malfoy commented, gaze focused on the sea of people milling around them. His voice was tinged with amusement, but still fairly distant. Harry knew he was going to have to tread lightly in order not to scare Malfoy off.

"So, the Ministry relented on those funds, then?" Harry asked, and then mentally kicked himself for bringing up the freeze on the Malfoy estate that had forced Draco into the awkward position of supporting himself through his own labor. 

Malfoy's head swiveled around and he pinned Harry with an assessing look. Harry bit his lip. 

"What of it, Potter?" Draco drawled. _Good, he's not going to take offense._

"Nothing, nothing. Money suits you. You look good."

Malfoy looked askance at him, but said, "Thanks" nevertheless, and added a "You, too," though it sounded a bit reluctant.

A silence intruded while Harry racked his brains for anything to say. He was burning with an awareness of Malfoy not two feet away from him -he could almost imagine that he could smell him, but that was absurd. They were in the open air with garlands of flowers hanging down among the tables.

"So, how's the Weasley... lass?" Malfoy's jaw seemed to tighten as he said it, but again Harry detected no malice in the question. "Wedding bells in your future?"

Harry laughed at the absurdity of the notion of marrying Ginny. "She's fine. We've been on and off for awhile, but I think this time..." He trailed off. He'd been about to say he thought it might be over, but then Malfoy might get the wrong idea. _Or the right one_ , his brain muttered.

"Well," Malfoy said briskly. "It's been nice talking to you, but I'd better get back to my table."

"Sure thing." Malfoy was already walking away and Harry, frantic to cement their reconciliation, called out, "Hey! Let's get drinks sometime!"

Malfoy half-turned and nodded vaguely, then continued on his path to his table. Harry could see that it was nowhere near the main table where he was to sit.

 

* * *

 

Draco couldn't get Harry bleeding Potter out of his head, which was ridiculous. They only ever had sex, what? Four times? Two if you wanted to get technical and only count penetration. It had been years ago. He'd had plenty of sex in the intervening time. So why did he think of Potter almost every time he touched himself? Why did he wake up from dreams in which Potter was sucking his cock, probing his arse, calling out his name? It was infuriating. The unwelcome feelings he'd been plagued with had long ago died out. Sure, they resurfaced a bit whenever he saw Potter, but he was man enough to deal with it, mature enough to recognize it for what it was.

He was not still hung up on Potter.

It did not help in the slightest, though, that one simply could not escape Potter's face. It was everywhere, plastered on walls, on magazine covers, commemorative tea-towels, mugs and Quidditch gear.

It was his voice on WWN that was the worst though. That awful recruiting ad for the Aurors! Harry hadn't even joined the Aurors, for Merlin's sake! Draco jumped about a mile every time he heard that voice say "My name is Harry Potter, and I defeated the most evil wizard to ever darken our world. But I couldn't have done it without the help of the Auror Division, the most elite squad of evil-fighting wizards and witches in the world. Join the Aurors! Fight Evil! Because you never know when the next dark wizard will arise…."

Something about the way Harry's voice got all dark and smoky on that last sentence made the hairs on the back of Draco's neck stand up. He didn't want to think about what else also threatened to take a stand.

It had taken every ounce of the scant courage that he possessed to go up to Potter at the Weasel's wedding. Well, the courage was scarce but the pride wasn't, and it was pride that Malcolm had played on to get him to do it in the first place. Malcolm claimed that his grudge against Potter was unreasonable and that it was hindering his ability to be present in their relationship. Which was all probably true. Then he had told Draco that it seemed like he was afraid of Potter. Draco had bristled and said no, he was not, and Malcolm had told him to prove it.

Oh well, it hadn't been so bad. The dreams and fantasies hadn't gotten appreciably worse in the aftermath of their brief conversation. Everything was about the same, except that Malcolm seemed more confident in their relationship. And except for the fact that he'd spent the last few months scanning the papers for the article announcing the wedding engagement of Harry Potter and Ginevra Weasley, relief succeeding nausea every time it failed to appear.

 

* * *

 

Harry had only agreed to those awful radio spots because Shacklebolt had strong armed him into it. Well, he and his deputy Tonks. He never would have agreed to it had Scrimgeour still been Minister. He hated that last sentence - "You never know when the next dark wizard will arise" - he didn't want to be a fear-monger. But since the defeat of Voldemort and the round-up of the Death Eaters, young people seemed to be under the impression that there was no more evil in the world. Complacency was setting in, and if he could help nip that in the bud, he would.

Still, it gave him the creeps every time he heard them.

The anniversary of the final showdown was coming up, yet again, and yet again Harry was supposed to act the hero at the celebrations. He hated the official ceremonies, but for the past five years he and the old gang would get together at The White Stag afterwards and catch each other up on their lives, resolutely not talking about anything related to the war. It had turned out to be a necessary postlude to the anniversary events, the only thing that made Harry not balk at doing his yearly duty.

Actually, this year he was positively anticipating the event. The thought that he might run into Malfoy there may have had something to do with it. He and Malfoy had bumped into each other several more times since Ron and Hermione's wedding, and each time they had been more natural, more friendly with each other. It was a shame that every time Harry was on the verge of asking Malfoy to drinks, he abruptly had to be somewhere else, but this time Harry was going to make sure that they made plans. It was time to put the past behind them and get to know each other again.

His hind-brain reminded him that there was more than one way to get to know someone, but he resolutely pretended not to have heard it.

 

* * *

 

"You can't stay here and mope forever, Draco," Remus said while Snape glared at him.

"That Baddock whelp has not an ounce of sense if he thinks he can do better than you," he sneered. Snape's attempts at being comforting were almost worse than his attempts to threaten. They were certainly less successful, at any rate.

"It's not about that, Severus, he just..." Draco trailed off at the futility of trying to describe his relationship with Malcolm.

"I don't care what 'he just...'" Snape sneered with greater intensity. "The point is, he's not here now and you need to get off your spoiled little arse. No one's seen hide nor hair of you in a month. It won't do to have them think you're holing up, plotting to arise as the "the next dark wizard," will it?" 

Draco jolted at Snape's quotation of the Auror ad. "I suppose not," he replied.

"Good then," Snape said and turned away, his part in the process over.

"I'm not going to the main event, though." Draco frowned stubbornly.

"But you will accompany us to The White Stag for drinks after the celebrations?" asked Remus in his "we know what's best for you" voice.

Draco didn't see how he was going to get out of this. Ever since the end of the war, Remus and Severus had appointed themselves his honorary guardians. While it was nice that someone took an interest in him, they had the most irritating knack for making him feel like a teenager again.

"I suppose so." _God, I should really grow a spine one of these days,_ he thought bitterly.

 

* * *

 

"And he said 'That's the last time I ever lend you a billy goat!'" Seamus exclaimed, and there were reluctant chuckles around the table. Seamus told absolutely the worst jokes Harry had ever heard, usually to do with barnyard animals, but who was he to talk? He couldn't remember jokes to save his life. He watched his friends interact, wishing he could just be in the moment, keep his mind from straying towards -

A platinum blur in his peripheral vision caught his attention and Harry looked towards the bar. His heart thumped painfully as he remembered what Hermione had told him earlier in the evening about Draco and Malcolm 'taking a break' from each other. He wondered if this break was more meaningful than the breaks he and Ginny took from each other, which generally resulted in one of them getting bored with looking for someone else and gravitating back towards the other.

"I'm getting another," Harry said as he rose from the table. He walked to the bar and sidled up to Malfoy, hoping that they could easily slip into the cautious camaraderie that had characterized their recent interactions.

"Hey there," he said, his voice a little huskier than he had intended it to be.

"Oh. Potter," Malfoy said, his tone lacking warmth. 

"I didn't know you'd be here." Malfoy craned his neck to look back at his companions as though suspicious, of what Harry didn't know.

"Yeah, well. I am," Malfoy said, gesturing down at himself. "In all my glory."

Harry swallowed hard. If Malfoy's glory was anything like it used to be... he dragged his mind away from that and focused on being friendly.

"Buy you a drink?"

"I think I've had enough, but... sure." Malfoy smiled at him, and Harry placed an order for two firewhiskeys and soda.

As they waited for the bartender to make the drinks, Harry tried to remember what they'd talked about the last time they'd seen each other. Truth be told, he'd been a little distracted by the tight Muggle jeans Malfoy'd been wearing. It suddenly came back to him - Malfoy was working on an initiative to change Hogwarts' curriculum to include a basic introduction to the Wizarding world for Muggleborn students.

"How's the initiative going?" he asked, proud of himself for remembering. Malfoy had been so excited when he talked about it, his face all flushed and speech dramatic.

"Quite well, actually. It's amazing what money can do - people actually return my owls these days."

"That's good to hear. Want to get a seat with me over here?"

"Well, I came with friends," Malfoy glanced back at his table and Harry followed his gaze. Remus and Severus were deep in conversation, of a palpably private nature. "But it looks like they'd rather be alone right now, anyway," he finished wryly. "What about your friends?"

 

"Oh, they'll get along without me," Harry said, his pulse racing. They were having a drink together, Draco was on a break from his boyfriend, Ginny was out of town... this was going better than Harry could have dreamed.

 

* * *

 

They discussed Draco's initiative for awhile, then the continuing dismal performance of Harry's team, and then Draco had needled him about the Auror radio spots, resolutely failing to notify Harry about the effect his broadcast voice had on him.

Out of the blue, Harry asked, "So are you and Malcolm still on a break, or are you splitsville?"

Time seemed to slow down considerably as Draco tried to parse this question. Finally, he answered, "We're on a break." He wished he could have said "we broke up," but it wasn't true and Draco didn't know if he really wanted it to be true. At least Malcolm loved him. "We just need to figure out how we can be in each other's lives."

"He seems good for you," Harry replied, his tone enigmatic. It had to be purely wishful thinking to hear a bitter note in there.

"He is. He's good for me." And he was, too. Malcolm kept him grounded, challenged him to be a better person, was steady and solid and dependable. It really was too bad that Draco wasn't in love with him. "I don't deserve him."

They fell silent for awhile, and then Harry asked if he'd like another drink.

"Sure, why not?" Draco said. "It's not like I have a job to be at tomorrow. And it's not like a hangover will make your team's performance noticeably worse."

Harry laughed and got up to get more drinks. On his return, Draco had a sudden attack of curiosity that he was just drunk enough to attempt to satisfy.

"Where's Ginny tonight?" he asked, as lightly as he could.

"She's out of town, sorting some things out," Harry said, frowning. _Hm... trouble in paradise?_ Draco's mind mused hopefully.

"Want to play some billiards?" Harry gestured towards the corner table. Draco nodded, a smirk gracing his lips. He ruled this game.

After winning several games, Draco was feeling pretty pleased with himself, and Harry was gratifyingly frustrated at losing. They continued to take the piss out of each other, but the barbs lacked sting. Potter was actually quite witty, when given a chance and some booze. It was only when the bartender rang last call that Draco noticed the time. Most everyone else had left the bar, and it was about to close down.

Harry excused himself to go to the bathroom and Draco took one last sip of his drink, gazing thoughtfully after him. Why had Harry asked about Malcolm, particularly about whether they'd broken up? Was it because he was interested in picking up where they'd left off, all those years ago? Draco knew he wasn't thinking clearly but then again, when he was thinking clearly nothing good ever happened. Maybe, just once, just for kicks, he should follow his instincts.

Draco rose and unsteadily made his way to the gents, intent on making something happen. He wasn't exactly sure what he was going to do, which might have been part of the problem. When he ran into Harry on his way out the door, he launched himself at him, murmuring something about "Just this once..." and going in for a kiss.

It felt so good to be close to Harry again that he sort of lost his mind. It actually took him several seconds to realize that the reason the kiss wasn't happening was that Harry was holding him off, gently but firmly, and saying "I can't."

In his drunken haze, Draco fell back and nodded vaguely, then staggered back to the table and threw down some coins. By some miracle, he made it to the Floo before Harry returned to the table.

Once home, covered in ash, he fell down on the sofa and passed into merciful oblivion. The crushing shame of rejection would have to wait until the morning.


	7. Chapter 7

Harry slumped on his couch and pondered the previous evening. Things had been going great until Draco had proclaimed his love for Malcolm. That he had then gotten exceedingly drunk and thrown himself at Harry had probably had more to do with his confusion over Malcolm than anything else. "Just this once" echoed in his head, over and over. Harry didn't want to be Draco's one-off. He picked up his cold coffee and took a sip, grimacing at the bitterness of it. 

At least he'd prevented Draco from cheating on his boyfriend, though that was small consolation for denying himself the intoxicating pleasure of Draco's mouth. He had smelled and looked every bit as enticing as at Grimmauld Place, and pushing him away had been nearly impossible. Harry groaned in frustration and then again, more softly, in pain at the noise. "I'm pathetic," he muttered. 

"Harry?" Oh shit, it was Hermione in the front hall. He never should have given her a key - he was in no mood to talk at the moment. 

"Come on in, Hermione," he called out. Maybe she'd brought hangover potion. One could always hope, and god knew she carried half of England in that bag of hers. 

"Oh, look at you. Rough night last night?" Hermione asked in her best Molly Weasley voice. Harry nodded and she sat down next to him on the couch, patting his head. 

"Got any hangover potion?" Harry looked over at her hopefully, but Hermione just shook her head. 

"You should drink some water. Here, I'll get you some." She bustled into the kitchen and brought back a glass of water, putting it in his hand and waiting for him to drink it all. 

Dutifully, he did so, then set the glass on the table and asked, "So what brings you to my den of despair so early in the morning?" 

"Harry," Hermione started, and Harry knew he was in trouble just from the tone of her voice. If he had a saving-people-thing, she had a fixing-people-thing. 

"I've got something to say, and it might be hard to hear. It's about you and Ginny." She made a face after she said this, sort of a pained scowl that made Harry's heart drop. "It's not just that, though. But let's start with that."

"God, Hermione, maybe I should be less hungover for this. It sounds heavy."

"It is. It might be. Oh hell, I'll just say it. I think you should break up with Ginny."

"That's -" Harry was speechless. Hermione could be bossy and invasive, but this was really out of bounds. 

"I know. I never wanted to say that; I never wanted to think it, but it's true. It's just not working out with you two. And I think I know why."

"What do you mean, why? I mean, it's obvious that we have a lot of fights, we don't spend the nights with each other anymore because of her damn cat-"

"Her cat is not the issue. And the fighting isn't just about… Look, Harry, I know about you and Malfoy." 

"What?! Nothing is happening there, Hermione. I swear to god. Do you really think I'd cheat on Dra- Ginny?"

Hermione looked grimly pleased by this slip, as if he'd proved her point. Well, maybe he had.

"I mean, I know that the two of you were... involved during the war. I know that you're still attracted to each other." Harry spluttered a weak denial but Hermione talked over him. "If nothing has happened yet, I'm impressed, honestly. But you can't pretend that nothing is going to happen - it's only a matter of time. I saw the two of you last night. You were practically undressing him with your eyes."

She was right; he knew that. And he really ought to break up with Ginny, if only to be fair. But even then, it wasn't - he couldn't - he had no business ruining Draco's happiness just because they had some lingering attraction from days of yore.

"Hermione, first I want to say - you're right." She looked shocked and vaguely pleased, as pleased as a person could reasonably be at having their dark suspicions confirmed. "I should break up with Ginny. It's not working; it hasn't for years, and we both need to move on. But she's not the only person I need to move on from." He paused, his throat constricting slightly. He waited a moment for it to pass.

"Nothing is going to happen with Malfoy. Not that I don't want it to, but … he's happy. Malcolm makes him happy."

"Content is not the same--" Hermione began, but Harry cut her off.

"He makes him happier than I ever could. He's a Slytherin; he understands him. I could never make heads or tails of all that game-playing--"

"And yet you can talk to snakes…" Hermione murmured. Harry ignored her. 

"We tried it, a long time ago, and we both got burned so bad I think we both still bear scars. He thinks I used him, and maybe I did. I still don't know what was going on with him, but it wasn't any good. How could it have been when he avoided me for years…"

"Harry, you were both seventeen years old! Of course you screwed up!"

"You and Ron didn't screw up," he said, knowing he sounded like a sullen prat.

"You have no idea how hard it was when he was with Lavender. I acted like an imbecile, and if you think it was easy for Ron to overlook that, then you're wrong. We had hard times; luckily he had Charlie for an older brother and I had Tonks to talk to. Sometimes I think it was sheer luck that made it work between us. You, on the other hand - correct me if I'm wrong - you fell in love with a Death Eater's son, another male when you'd no idea you even swung that way… at a very stressful time, to criminally understate the case."

Harry had wanted to deny that he'd fallen in love with Draco, but he didn't cut her off in time and he realized that he couldn't deny it. It was true. He had been in love with Draco Malfoy. It was even remotely possible that he still was.

"Earth to Harry. What are you going to do about this?"

Harry left off picking at the fabric of the couch and looked up at Hermione, reluctantly. "You mean, apart from breaking it off with Ginny?"

Hermione frowned at him. "You know that's only the first half of the puzzle. I'm talking about Malfoy."

"What is there to do?" 

"You guys have been dancing around this for too long. I know you had some sort of cataclysmic falling out - you need to talk to him about it. Find out what happened. Maybe..."

"Hermione, there's nothing to talk about. It was all a long time ago. He probably never even thinks about it."

"But you do."

"Yeah." Hermione was right. She was always right, goddamn it.

"So what happened after everyone left last night?" Hermione asked a little too casually, considering the preceding conversation.

"Nothing, I already said."

"Really? Then why are you so hungover?"

"Well, Malfoy and I hung out for awhile, played a few games of billiards. Drank a bit."

"And nothing happened."

Harry sighed exasperatedly. "Fine, something happened."

"What?"

"He… he tried to kiss me."

Hermione looked smug for a moment, then managed to rearrange her expression into something a little less irrirating. "Hm. What do you mean, tried?"

"Well, I stopped him."

"What? Why?"

"I'm with Ginny. For the moment, anyway. And he's got a boyfriend - he shouldn't be kissing other people, even if they are on a break. Besides, he was probably just trying to get back at Malcolm or something."

"So, he wanted to kiss you, but you stopped him."

"Er, yeah." 

"Harry. This is ridiculous." She threw up her hands. "That 'break' was probably caused by his feelings for you."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that… okay, A) alcohol is a disinhibitor. It removes inhibitions; it allows you to do what you really want to do, like kiss someone. B) I have seen them together, and Malcolm Baddock bores and frustrates Malfoy. I have never seen such an obvious mismatch."

"Really?" Harry could feel a grin taking over his face.

"Really. You have to talk to him. Soon."

"But I never know when I'm going to run into him - we don't owl each other or anything; we just sort of... bump into each other." 

Hermione laughed. "As if I don't know that your recent change of address had more to do with its proximity to Malfoy's London flat and less to do with that mice infestation you claimed to have." She lowered her voice. "I also happen to know that Malfoy has a meeting with Minister Shacklebolt next Tuesday, I think in the mid-morning. You could catch him after and take him to lunch or something."

Still grinning, Harry cocked his head at Hermione. "You really had this all worked out, didn't you?" 

Hermione smiled knowingly. 

 

* * *

Draco stared at Malcolm's sleeping face. He hated himself. He was going to break this off when he didn't really want to, but he knew it was neither fair nor right to stay in this relationship. Not when his heart was elsewhere- even if that could never work. 

'I can't,' he heard, at all hours of the day and night; it rang in his ears and caused him to flush with humiliation every time. He'd thrown himself at Harry and been so brutally turned away. But it had made him realize that if he was willing to abase himself like that for Harry, then he didn't deserve Malcolm. He probably didn't even really want Malcolm. It had to end.

In the morning, then. He'd do it in the morning. 

His bags were already packed.

 

* * *

 

Harry was pretty sure his heart stopped when he caught a glimpse of pale hair in the noon crowds of the Ministry lobby. Draco must have just come from the meeting with Shacklebolt.

"Hey there," Harry said, hoping Draco didn't catch the slight tremble in his greeting. 

"Oh! Hello, Harry," Draco replied, looking somewhat sleep-deprived.

"Long night?" 

"Mm."

"Look, what are you doing right now?"

"Right now, I'm talking to a nosy Gryffindor. In..." Draco checked his watch, "five minutes, I've a meeting with Shacklebolt. Why?"

"Oh, I thought that had happened already. Um, well, I was thinking that when you were done we could go get some food or something."

"Potter, it'll be mid-afternoon when I get done." 

"Well, a drink then."

"You lush," Malfoy smirked at him. "How about coffee?" he offered.

"Yeah, yeah," Harry said, nodding vigorously. He knew he sounded too eager, but he couldn't help it. This fucking nightmare stood a chance of being resolved once and for all. He was certain that if he could manage to get Draco back intp his bed and his life, the dreams and waking visions would stop, or at least be replaced by memories and pleasant anticipation of things to come. 

"Ooookay," Draco drawled. "You're pretty peppy, Potter. It doesn't seem like you need any more caffeine, but I guess I won't have to deal with the aftermath so.... meet you here in about two hours?"

"Deal," Harry said.

"Wait a second, what are you doing here, anyway?" Draco must have suddenly realized that it was somewhat strange for Harry to voluntarily be loitering about in the Ministry lobby. 

"See you at 2:00," Harry called out as he walked away towards the exit, a huge grin on his face.

 

* * *

"So what's this all about, Potter?" Draco said, shaking his hair back away from his face and looking at Harry through his eyelashes, a look that could be interpreted as seductive or challenging, depending on the situation. He felt he was doing a remarkable job of pretending that his pathetic and failed drunken pass had never happened. With any luck, Potter had been too wasted to remember it, anyway. 

Harry's puppyish excitement had been replaced by a strange, tense quiet. He took a long sip of his iced americano and regarded Draco with a totally unreadable expression on his face. It wasn't blank, it was just that there were so many different and conflicting emotions passing across it that they couldn't be sorted out from each other. Finally, he said, "Why did you end it?"

Draco started. Harry couldn't possibly know that he'd left Malcolm that morning. "End what?"

"Us. That day, at Grimmauld Place." Harry just stared at Draco, apparently willing him not to make him elaborate. Draco stared back. Harry huffed and continued, "You know. When you, uh..."

"When I had a screaming hissy fit?" Draco snorted. "Yeah, sorry about that. You know how teenage boys are. All hormones, no sense." He rolled his eyes and took a drink.

"Yeah, I know how teenage boys are. But... still, why? Why did you do that?"

Draco felt a surge of irritation rise within him - he was very put-out by this line of inquiry. He was grimly satisfied to note that Harry's cheeks had colored as though he was realizing that perhaps their detente couldn't survive the truth.

"I heard you."

"Okay."

"No, I heard you. I was." Draco stopped and cleared his throat. "I eavesdropped on your little reunion with the... Ginny. When you got back together."

Harry looked totally perplexed, and if the circumstances had been different, Draco would have found it adorable. "I don't understand... how could you... when was this?"

"You know, when the Order and everyone came to stay at Grimmauld Place." Why was he being so thick? Surely he must remember the grand reunification. "You told her you loved her? I overheard you."

"I - I told her..." Harry was staring off into a corner of the room, and then a look of revelation spread across his face and he began laughing. Draco thought it incredibly poor taste to laugh at his juvenile angst. 

"What are you laughing at?"

"Malfoy," he said, suddenly sobering. "I told her I loved her, yes. But I meant like a sister, like a friend. I was breaking up with her!"

"What?!"

"Didn't you hear me say "I love you, but I'm not in love with you?"

Silence fell across the table with a nearly audible thud. Finally, Draco answered, "No."

There were a few more seconds of silence as Draco slowly put the pieces together. "You were breaking up with her."

Harry nodded, solemnly. 

"For me."

"Mm-hm." 

Draco was very tempted to throw his drink across the room, in rage or jubilation he couldn't say. He demanded that his emotions restrain themselves, as this information didn't really change anything in the here and now. But it felt good - it felt really, really good - to know that Harry had done that for him, even it was just water under the bridge. A smile stole across his lips despite his efforts to maintain his cool.

"I, uh, I broke up with her." 

"I got that," Draco said, the smile widening in spite of himself. 

"I mean, again."

"Again." Draco's heartbeat sped up dangerously as the whole room took on an aura of unreality.

"I broke up with her again. For you." Draco noticed that Harry's hands were gripping the edge of the table as though it might suddenly rise into the air. "I know you're with Malcolm, and I have no right to interfere in that-"

"I left him," Draco cut in. "This morning." 

They stared at each other for a few heart-stopping moments, in a world that suddenly contained just the two of them and nothing else. Finally, Draco shook himself and asked, "So, what now?" He thought his voice sounded a bit hysterical, but Harry didn't seem inclined to hold that against him.

"Now we make up for lost time." Harry stood and held his hand out to Draco, who took it. He was pulled towards the other man until they stood scandalously close to each other in a Muggle coffeeshop, the other patrons surreptitiously watching the scene unfold. 

Draco was trembling, he knew that. He also knew Harry could feel it, as Harry put his hand in the small of Draco's back and drew him in, closing the final few inches between them. He didn't dare speak.

Harry looked searchingly into his eyes and said, "You have no idea how much I've wanted you."

Draco shook his head. "No, I didn't. I had no idea."

"I'm going to show you. Right now." Draco closed his eyes against the disorienting jolt of Side-along Apparition and opened them to find himself in an unfamiliar flat. He started to clarify that it was Harry's, but soft lips on his own prevented him from getting the words out. They felt so good... god, they tasted the same. Exactly the same. A flood of emotions swept through him.

"I hated you so much," he murmured, lips moving against Harry's. 

"I know," Harry said. "I never knew why. This could all have been... why did it have to take so long? Why does everything between us have to be so hard?"

Draco glanced down between them, to where their very stiff and insistent erections were brushing together, and they both burst out laughing. As the laughter trailed off, Harry pulled him in for another searing kiss. After a moment, they broke apart and Harry continued, "Difficult, then. Why does it have to be difficult for us?"

"Maybe because nothing worth having comes easily?" Draco whispered. Harry nodded and reached around to grab at Draco's arse. 

"This is definitely worth having." They ground against each other and Harry leaned in to lick and suck at Draco's neck. "I just wish I'd been having it for all this time," he growled.

"No time for regret," Draco panted. As their hands continued to tug and pull at each other's clothing, he said, "I want you to tell me something."

Harry pulled away slightly and cocked his head, hands still down Draco's trousers. "What?"

"Had any dirty thoughts lately? Any fantasies you need to act out?" Draco quirked an eyebrow at him, and Harry grinned. 

"Lots," he said, as he dragged Draco towards the bedroom.

"Tell me about them, then," Draco said, his voice a honeyed smirk.

"Oh, but I'd rather show you," Harry returned, and Draco couldn't argue with that. 

Draco entered the bedroom behind Harry and was intent on getting to the bed as fast as possible. However, his eyes caught sight of some items on the wall and he stopped in his tracks. "Um... Potter?"

Harry followed his line of vision. "Oh. That. Well, I... what can I say? My fantasies have gotten a little more... complex."

A shudder of excitement made its way through Draco's body. "You don't say," he drawled, running a finger down a riding crop that looked as though it had seen good use.

Harry put a hand on Draco's shoulder and turned him around. "You know, the thought of using that on you is… oh…" He broke off as Draco's hand slipped down into his trousers and curled around his prick. 

Draco nearly swooned at the feel of him. He had wanted this, just this, for so, so long that actually having it, actually touching Harry, was nearly narcotic. He rested his forehead on the juncture of Harry's neck and shoulder, fisting him as intently as possible, breathing though his nose, his mouth forming a moue of concentration. Draco abruptly felt like he might cry, his chest tight with unbelieving joy. But tears would make everything strange and uncomfortable. They'd had too much drama, too much agony; or at any rate, he had. He just wanted this to be sexy and fun…but he wasn't feeling sexy and fun. He was feeling overwhelmed and a little bit scared.

Harry stilled his hand and said, "Draco?" 

"Yes?" He was determined not to look up at Harry. 

"Please… this is… god, this is great. I love you touching me, but… not right now… I mean… maybe we should wait… shit, this is coming out wrong…" Harry stuttered to a halt. Draco flicked his eyes to Harry's and withdrew his hand from his trousers, fearful of what words might fall out of Harry's mouth next. They never had been good with the talking thing. 

"Let's just… can we just go into the living room for a second?" Draco nodded and followed Harry back into the room they'd Apparated to. He stood there awkwardly, staring at his feet and feeling confused and horny and wrongfooted, wishing he could figure out what was going on in Harry's head.

"Look," Harry said gently. "You're not… this is…" Harry's hands were warm on him shoulders as he pulled Draco in for a chaste kiss that dredged up hopes he'd thought crushed for years. "This isn't about sex for me," Harry said softly, his lips just touching Draco's. "Well, it is," he admitted, and they both laughed, but the mood remained serious. "It's about everything we didn't do at Grimmauld Place."

"What didn't we do?" Draco couldn't stop feeling almost sick with nervousness; he was so sure that something awful was going to happen at any second. He took a deep breath and forced himself to look at Harry, who looked like he was concentrating on a particularly challenging potion. _Let's hope he does better at this then he did in that class._

"Talk. We never really talked. I mean, it sort of started out… I didn't know I was going to feel things for you. But I did. And I… I do. Even now. God, it sounds stupid, because we've hardly seen each other -"

"It doesn't sound stupid," Draco blurted. "Don't say that." He moved away from Harry to a couch that looked like it had seen better days. _If this works out, I'm going to make him get rid of this couch._ He sat on the edge of a beat-up cushion and tried not to fidget. "It doesn't sound stupid. I didn't know, either. I felt so out of control; I could never get you out of my head. And you - I couldn't tell what you were feeling. I thought you only wanted sex." The lump in his throat was growing, which made no sense. Harry had broken up with Ginny, for him - things were finally going to be okay. Why should he be so upset?

Harry came over to him and knelt in front of him. Draco's heart started pounding when he saw that his eyes were shining with what looked like tears. "Me too. I mean, I thought that's all you wanted. And it didn't make sense, but I couldn't stop thinking about you. I've never stopped thinking about you and wondering about you. I hoped you were doing well - well no, let's be honest, I hoped you were dying a thousand painful deaths for love of me… And I wanted to talk to you but I thought you hated me. And I was too scared to find out why." He laughed, and Draco felt a corresponding smile forming on his face. "I saved the Wizarding world from the Big Bad Noseless Wonder, but the very idea of you not liking me exactly as much as I liked you had me running scared. Godric Gryffindor must be spinning in his grave." He snorted again, which made Draco burst out laughing, too.

"You think you're bad? Salazar would have me strung up by the thumbs for that shoddy eavesdropping, to say nothing of all the sulking. Slytherins don't sulk - they scheme!" 

"Couple of house traitors, we are," Harry smirked, nudging Draco, who nudged back, feeling his nervousness vanish completely, arousal taking its place.

"But really," Harry continued, sobering. "If I hadn't been such a coward, I would have sought you out as soon as that bastard was dead. I could have saved us a lot of trouble."

"You could have saved us, huh? Has anyone ever told you have a thing about saving people?" 

"Not in exactly those words, but yeah."

"Can you save me from this raging hard-on?" Draco whispered, hoping that they'd done enough sharing and could move on to the sex. It was good that they'd opened up to each other and admitted that they'd both been scared. But actually hearing about how scared Harry had been that Draco might reject him had made his blood race straight to his cock. _Sudden revelations of insecurity turn me on- I believe I've invented a new kink._

"I live to serve," Harry replied, reaching for Draco's trouser placket and pushing him back on the couch. "Do you know how much I've fantasized about this?" 

"About as much as I have, I'm guessing - oh!" Draco gasped as Harry wrested his cock out of his pants and began pumping it with languid but firm strokes.

"Constantly. All the time. God, Draco, I've wanted you…" he silenced himself by engulfing Draco in his mouth. Draco's hips were bucking helplessly and his head had lolled back onto the couch when Harry started licking long stripes up the side of his cock. He hummed with satisfaction.

"So this is it, then?" Harry murmured, looking up but continuing to work Draco with his hand.

"This is what?" Draco panted.

 

"We're, like…" Harry trailed off awkwardly, then bent down to suck on the head of the prick in his hand.

Draco smiled weakly, overwhelmed by the twin sensations of how Harry felt and what Harry meant. "We're together. On one condition." _Ah, very Slytherin,_ Draco congratulated himself. 

"What's that?" Harry said, smiling around a mouthful of engorged flesh.

"You keep careful track of those fantasies. We're going to try all of them."

Harry looked up and grinned at him. "Can do. There's this one I've had, recently…"

Draco moaned as Harry's hand sped up on his cock. "Tell me all about it," he panted. 

 

Fin!


End file.
